


A lie close to the heart

by Little_Firestar84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, Multichapter, Romance, trying to keep it in continuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Firestar84/pseuds/Little_Firestar84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/Future fic. After having been apart for a year, Lisbon is ready to welcome back Marcus Pike, her boyfriend,  already foreseeing a future together, and maybe even marriage... only, she is stunned when she is introduced to his fiancèe! But Jane is quick to intervene to save her pride: "Congratulations! And, by the way, not ten minutes ago Teresa consented to be my wife, too!" It's a believable lie, but is it enough of a basys for a relationship- even one that's supposed to be fake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Very post Violets, set in a not so far future, but yet not so close as well. And also because I remembered all those Harlequin novels I used to read, with fake relationships in them to save the broken hearted girl's pride...  
> 

 

The day had finally arrived, and Teresa couldn’t quite believe it: after almost one year, Marcus was finally back from his assignment in Washington- for good. She started to walk in front of the diner where his co-workers had arranged the welcome back party quite nervously. Her hands were sweating, and she was taking big breaths hoping to calm herself down.The truth was, she didn’t know what to think. She knew what she was hoping for- that now that he was back, Marcus would ask her to move in with him, or, even better (especially at her age) to marry him as they had wasted enough time already.

But. Truth to be told, she knew it wasn’t that easy. When he had left, he had told her that he knew that one year was a long time and that she was a beautiful woman, and as such, she was supposed to feel free to date as she pleased, that he didn’t want to cage her in a non-existent relationship as he had always wanted only her happiness. Teresa though, during their last night together, had been adamant that, for her, it was it and that she wasn’t going to look around for a new lover.

(Besides, how insensitive was, breaking up with your boyfriend over the phone while he is away doing his job?)

Smiling and kissing him lazily, she had made him understood (or so she hoped) that he was the one, she loved him and he better like it, because now they were both marked for life, whatever he wanted it or not (of course, she had told him so jokingly. She didn’t want to look like she was crazy, or a stalker.).

In short: she hadn’t been on a date since she had met him, and she knew that his words had been only said because… well, Marcus was _Marcus_ , perfect knight in shining armor who didn’t want to have her resenting him. _Of Couse_ he loved her. She hadn’t dated while he was away, and she didn’t even need to ask him if he had done the same, because she knew him and what they truly meant to each other. _Of Course_ he had done the same. 

And yet, there was something bugging her in the back of her mind, something she didn’t know how to explain. An hunch, her sixth sense? Her instinct? Her flight or fight response? She wasn’t sure. Jane had always told her that when she felt something like that, she was supposed to follow it through and screw rationality, but how could she follow it, when she didn’t even know what the damn it was?

Who knew. Maybe she was just upset because she was in a dress. And she had always hated dresses. With a passion.

She sat on the hood of her car, and closed her eyes, trying to think only positive thoughts and control of breathing. Biofeedback, right? It had always worked with Jane (the _man_ who claimed to have _faked sex_ with Lorelai martins through the discipline), so maybe it could work with her too. 

And then… she felt it. _Him._

Strong, big and warm hands run their fingertips on the naked skin of her arms, and shivered in pleasure. His touch caused goose bumps to appear on her fair skin, and she smiled a bit shy as she felt heat rising all over her body. She wondered what Marcus was thinking, as he had never touched her in such an intimate (and yet caste) way before when in the open (it wasn’t like they wanted to hide their relationship, as it was common knowledge that the two agents were in a relationship; but flirting over pancakes was one thing, and being touchy-feely in front of the people who called her a bad-ass cop was another one.) but she guessed it had to be a good thing: if he was being so affectionate, he had probably missed her as much as she did.

And then, maybe… maybe he wanted the same things as she did, too.

His lips suddenly found the skin of her neck, and instead of rejecting him or lecturing the man about his behavior, she decided to enjoy the onslaught of sensations that his lips, that the stubble (a novelty) provoked in her; she didn’t care if it wasn’t like them, they had been apart for so long, and now he back again- for good. 

He moved his mouth, and before she realized what was happening or could open her eyes, warm lips found her mouth, and she immediately reciprocated the ardent kiss, his fingertips still drawing imaginary patterns on the exposed skin of her arms. He let it go when their breathing started to change, and the heavy make-out session was getting too close to indecency, but Teresa still felt tingly all over, like Trilly had come over covering her with fairy dust. 

With her eyes still half-closed, she purred his name, “Uhm.. Marcus…” and was ready to lean over for another heated kiss, but then, in her peripheral vision, she saw _who_ was standing in front of her, and she jumped, gritting her teeth, ready to hit him. 

“Jane!” She hissed. She felt herself blushing, but for a completely different reason altogether from when she had gotten all red all over because of Marcus’… well, _Jane’s_ touch. 

“Yep, guilty as charged.” He calmly said, hands in the pockets of his trousers, rolling on his heels. He was smiling softly, his sea-green eyes were filled with mirth and fixed on her with an intensity she had witnessed maybe just once or twice before. It was something that didn’t make any sense, though; all those times, even if she had believed each time that he was _that close_ to admit his love to her, even if all those times he had always showed some kind of affection for her (told her he loved her, told her she had no idea how much she meant to him, that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her) he hadalways, _always,_ been worried for her life (because of Red John), but now didn’t make any sense that he, Patrick Jane, was worried for _her:_ Red John had been long dead, the Blake Association had fallen, and even their freshly appointed murderer/stalker wasn’t an issue any longer. Yes, she had a dangerous job, but Jane had never been too worried about everyday psychos. 

So, what the hell was he up to? And what the damn hell was wrong with him? Sane men weren’t supposed to go and kiss people whenever they felt like.She sighed. All right- they did, but it was Jane she was talking about, and sane, well, she wasn’t so sure it was part of his whole, huge package. Besides, she wasn’t “people”. She was Teresa Lisbon, a woman in a well-working relationship. 

“Jane…” She said again, sighing in exasperation, but then she pouted- of that adorable pout he just loved so much. “I thought it was Marcus.”

Jane chuckled. “Yeah, I guessed as much.” She hissed at him silently. Yes. She knew he knew. But the fact was, she hadn’t known it. and she hated it. 

(And she was getting kind of mixed signals from her former consultant/current partner.)

“What the hell, Jane? You don’t go around and… and kiss people!” she screamed at low voice, so close to him he could feel her breathing on the skin of his neck. Lisbon was almost panting- he found her just adorable. 

“Well, a, I don’t think you are people, as I’ve known you for almost fifteen years, and b, why, my dear, does a man kiss a beautiful woman? I saw you there, in this beautiful dress, and I didn’t resist.” He paused, and chuckled. “Even my idea was of giving you just a caste peck. If things heated up the way they did, you only have yourself to blame.”

“I thought it was Marcus… and you should have stopped me!” she said, indignant, making to move away from him. but before she could take even just one single step, Jane took her for her wrist, and put her back where she had been until a second before. He couldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze was fixed on the concrete pavement, and Lisbon could see he was struggling with words. 

“I’m sorry Lisbon, I didn’t think you were going to that angry. We are friends after all, right?” 

“Yeah, of course we are, Jane.” She admitted, quite reluctantly hating herself because (a) she was making him feel bad, and _hated_ when she made Jane feel bad and (b) because she had enjoyed a tad too much the kiss. But it wasn’t like she could really, really blame themselves. She had kissed him like that because she thought it was someone else, and he had kissed her like that because… because, despite appearances, Jane was a healthy, adult male of the human species. 

They looked at each other in silence, Teresa still blushing and Jane with an enigmatic expression, so intense that, frankly, it was scaring her. Finally, he moved, reaching out for her with his left hand, and put in order her hair. More than once, as their eyes met, he tried to say something, and every time he stopped himself. Teresa too gulped down mouthfuls of saliva, not sure if she was supposed to talk or not. 

She wanted to tell him too many things, but it wasn’t the time, nor the place, any longer. 

“Don’t worry Lisbon, you are as beautiful as always. I’m sure no one will guess that I’ve stolen a kiss from you. Even if…” he got closer and closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, his warm breath on her skin warming her up in all the right, and yet wrong, places. “You don’t happen to want to concede me another one, just this one time, do you?” he asked, chuckling lightly. 

Jane smiled, his lips right before her own ones, and the breath died in her throat. There was again that smile that scared her, playful and yet intense, somehow enigmatic- Jane’s very nature, if she had to be honest. She closed her eyes, and nodded, the movement felt from the man himself, and left a butterfly kiss on the corner of his lips; when she opened her eyes, she couldn’t read him, couldn’t say if he felt disappointed or whatever. When they finally parted, she took a big breath and shook her head, and Jane put an hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside the diner. 

“C’mon. I’m sure Marcus is as eager as you to see you again. How long has it been?” he asked her, casually, as they hadn’t just made out like horny teenagers while she believed she was kissing her own boyfriend. 

“Six months, given or taken.” Jane smiled at her, lost in her expression. She looked… dreamy, if he could say it. Not that he dared to say the word out loud, as Teresa would have killed him on the spot, but the rare times he had seen her really in love, or sincerely interested in a man, she had rejuvenated, looking like one of those teenagers singers talked about in their pieces. 

They entered together, stopping for a short while in the hall, looking around for people they knew and for Marcus too; other than their coworkers, other people they had worked with in few occasions were present too, and before looking for her boyfriend, Teresa shook hands here and there. 

And then, she spotted a familiar brown-head in the crowd. 

Bypassing few people, she made her way towards him, but as eager as she had been until a second ago to just jump in his arms and kiss him already, she felt like something was wrong; her instinct was kicking in again, so she played the role of the controlled agent, in charge of herself and of the situation. 

She reached Marcus, who was busy talking with Abbott, and greeted them all with a non-committal “Ehy.” Abbott smiled at something someone had said at his side, then, he turned towards Lisbon. There was something odd with her boss too, Lisbon realized. It was like he wasn’t at easy: she wondered if it was because he was a bit socially awkward, or because he didn’t like to spent too long with his subordinates outside the office. And then, her eyes fell on the _very young brunette_ at Marcus’ arm- her photocopy, only with… what, fifteen years less?

“Lisbon, you haven’t met Francine Gregory from the Washington Office yet, right?” Abbott asked, clearing his voice. 

Teresa didn’t know what she was supposed to do- because she had a terrible, terrible idea about the whole situation- but Francine offered Teresa her own hand, and Lisbon couldn’t help but being herself ( _Good old fashioned Catholic girl,_ Jane thought.) and politely smiled at her younger “doppelganger”. 

“Well, as from next week, I’ll be from the _Austin Office_ , actually.” Francine said, between the giggles and the laughter of the crowd around them. “Teresa Lisbon, right? Patrick Jane’s handler… Marcus told me so much about the two of you! I can’t wait to get to know your partner!”

Teresa knew that she was supposed to say something, but no words was escaping her mouth; she felt like screaming, and yet, she was unable to, she wanted to ask for a reassurance from Marcus, but she already knew what he was going to say. Tears burned in the corner of her eyes, until the warmth that for so long had calmed her down when she was stressed and felt bad was back, in the form of a big hand squeezing her right shoulder. 

“Your wish is my command, ma’am!” Jane said at her side with an absurd Texas accent, offering Francine _his hand_ to squeeze.“Patrick Jane, at your service.”

“Oh.” Francine said, and then “ _Oh”_ again, blushing, accepting Jane’s hand. “Hi. Francine Gregory, I work fraud, and,” She let it go of Jane’s hand, and interlaced her fingers with Marcus’ ones, blushing like a virgin. “And Marcus’ fiancée.” 

Lisbon didn’t know what to do, as her world came crushing down on her. She wanted to throw up- because Marcus had always said he liked her because she was bad-ass, and here he was, with _a doll,_ and she wanted to scream and shout, and… and…

It just didn’t make any sense, everything felt unreal, like a Matrix movie in slow motion. _She_ was supposed to be Marcus’ fiancée. _She_ was the one he had been dating before Washington. They had never broke up. He had written _to her_ , and called, and, and, and…

“I thought…” she said, and before she could add anything more, she felt Jane’s arm on her shoulder, their sides pressed together.

“Well, congratulations, Marcus! It’s wonderful, don’t you think, my dear?” Jane said, looking at her in the eyes. She stared at him back, feeling that there was something very wrong (besides Marcus being engaged to another woman) going on there, and she shivered. It was a mixed reaction that she got every time she understood or felt like Jane was conjuring a crazy idea, fear for what was going to happen and yet childish excitement, like she was part of a grand show bigger than life. “By the way, we’ve got big news, too. Not ten minutes ago, Teresa consented to be my wife, too.”

Teresa turned to face Jane with rightful indignation, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, he suffocated any lamentations she could have with another of those wonderful kisses of his. God, it was crazy and incredible, and, and….

Maybe she just had to calm down and compose herself. She had probably fallen asleep at the office, or maybe it was still night and she was in her own bed, making things up. Anyway. She didn’t like it and she was starting to feel dizzy. She closed her eyes and took yet another big breath, willing herself to wake up, but when she opened her eyes, she was still at the Diner, Kim was kissing her on the cheeks all happy and radiant and Cho was shaking Jane’s hands- _smiling._

“Youall right, dear?” Jane asked, and she simply shook her head. No, she didn’t feel well. Everything was wrong. It wasa nightmare. Only, it wasn’t. She felt her knees turning into jelly, and she was glad for Jane’s arm around her shoulder; at least, she wasn’t going to fall. At least, she wasn’t going to humiliate herself furthermore. 

“If you will excuse us, it’s been a stressful day for Lisbon, between the job and my proposal…” he excused themselves with just a nod of his head, and then they moved away from the crowd that had gathered around the two couples, Cho and Kim still in tow. 

“You know, you kind of surprised us. I thought you said that you and Jane…” Kim started. 

“Yeah, well, you know, you asked her when she joined the team. But time passes. Things change.” He dismissed the woman’s question with a dazzling smile. 

Teresa sniffed a little. “I…” she started to say, but Jane patted her on the back. 

“C’mon, dear, there’s no need to cry. I am sure that our friends are not mad because we kept things under wrap for a while…”

Kim nodded, smiling. Teresa loved that smile. Kim was her friend- and she was congratulating her on a false engagement. An engagement Kim believed to be true. 

“He is right, Teresa. We are all happy for you. Even Abbott secretly hoped that the two of you would end up together, after all.”

Kim gave her another kiss, and Cho hugged her quickly, congratulating the two of them, and then they left, getting back at the part. Jane was squeezing her hand, and as much as she felt it was bringing her comfort and warmth, Teresa didn’t want it: it was a lie, and she hated lying, especially to the people she cared about, she loved. 

But as she tried to free herself from his grasp, he tightened his hold on her, and guider her outside; right where it had all started, in front of her car. Again Teresa rested against the hood of her vehicle, and again she took a big breath at closed eyes, willingly herself to forget everything, to get back in time. 

When she took back some kind of semblance of control over her body, she stared at Jane. “I didn’t agree to marry you, right?” she asked. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no you didn’t, Teresa.” He told her sweetly. 

“Then, why…” she groaned. “Jane, I am glad that you wanted to save me yet again, especially from humiliation, but…”

He shook his head, an expression that was screaming that he was dismissing the whole thing as it wasn’t such a big deal. “It’s been an impulse. A bit like kissing you earlier.”

“But….” She started, looking a little lost. “But you don’t want to marry me…”

He smiled at her, this time of a sad smile, and it took him longer than before to actually answer her question. “Would it really be that strange if I wanted to, Teresa?”

“YES!” she screamed, gesticulating, crying like she had only done an handful of times before. “Yes! Because… because not five minutes ago I told you that I’m love with Marcus and… and…” She stopped talking altogether, her body broken by sobs. Jane took her in his arms, calmed her down, shushing her, kissing tenderly her dark hair. “Don’t cry, Teresa, don’t cry…”

She nodded, and he put some space between them, but he didn’t let it go of her, his arms still circling her waist. “Did you really want to save my from humiliation, Jane?” she asked, sniffing, stealing without ask, or being offered, the tissue from his jacket pocket. 

“Yeah, well, I knew that you were going to say something that you would have regretted, and it was the only thing I could say to stop you.” He admitted, chuckling in her hair, and she felt the vibration all over her body, lustful heat filling her from within.

“You and your schemes…” she murmured, and then, lifting her eyes so that she could look into his owns, she chuckled as well. “You know that you can’t marry me just to save this humble servant from public humiliation, right?”

“Well, we aren’t married, Lisbon. We are engaged…”

“And engagements can be broken!” she said, all too happy. Jane groaned. Apparently, Lisbon didn’t even appreciate being fake-engaged to him. Good. Way to trust him! “Are you sure you aren’t going to be embarrassed?” 

“Meh, what’s the matter?” He said. “I am single and available AND a consultant, and you are a charming girlfriend AND an agent. There’s no fraternization rule against us, half the office wanted for us to at least try to be a couple, the other half thought that we were already together…”

She blushed. “Thanks Jane.” she said. “Even if it’s just temporary… thanks. Really.”

He shook his head, and again it took him too long to say something in return. “Don’t thank me yet, Lisbon. I may have an ulterior motive for doing so.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Well, you may be Patrick Jane, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you did… but I don’t think it’s the case.”

“Don’t be so sure, dear.” He said, his voice husky and low, serious. 

Shivers run on her back, and Teresa knew in that moment, staring in his eyes, that it was a warning- a warning of things to come, things that had the potential break her as he had done so many times in the almost fifteen years before. 

And yet… maybe it was her chance to have a bit of happiness at his side, even if it was all a lie. Maybe it was the cosmos, the Universe or whatever, helping her out in healing the huge crush she had always had on him…

But it didn’t matter, after all, because of one thing she was sure: everything was going to change, and nothing was going to be the same, never, ever again. 


	2. Chapter Two

The next day, she and Jane were driving to the crime scene, and, for once, Teresa had trusted _him_ behind the wheel. It wasn’t just the fact that, now that he didn’t have the Citroen any longer, she felt a little bit safer when he did the driving, 

No. She simply didn’t feel safe enough if she was the one driving. She knew herself, and, as hard as it was to admit sometimes, she was her father’s daughter in some compartments- and road rage under stress was, indeed, something she had inherited from her old man.And she was stressed- a lot. And mad. Last night’s delusion and hurt had been processed through all the stages of grief during the night, and even if there was still that small part of her heart that was occupied by Marcus, well, saying that she was disappointed by his behavior was an euphemism. 

God. She couldn’t quite believe what he had done. They had been together for almost one year when he had left for Washington, and even during his year away they had, randomly, communicated, and he had never said anything about not being serious with her or that he was sleeping around. She blushed, felt angry tears burning her eyes and clouding her vision. 

But the truth was, she had been blind _before._ She had listened to Marcus’ words, and had given them another meaning altogether; whereas he said that he wanted for _her_ to not feel caged into a relationship with him, that he would have never blamed her if she had fallen for someone else while he was away, what he had truly meant was that she wasn’t that important and that he was still looking around for a better option. 

(His better option being an FBI agent, with dark brown hair falling in soft waves on her back, dark green eyes and petite- her perfect copy, if not for the fact that Francine was a good fifteen years younger than her- and Marcus too.)

She thought it always been about her. But no. Marcus had showed to be a self-centered egoistic jerk who no respect whatsoever, and “poor” Francine was nothing more than another victim of his charm: it was quite clear that the woman was completely oblivious to the “special bound” she had shared with Marcus, all she was in the eyes of the younger woman was Jane’s handler of sort. 

She sighed and looked outside the window, trying to concentrate on anything: the case, the landscape, anything would do. And yet, her mind kept coming back to the same topics, and she felt at battle with herself- a battle she thought over a long time ago, but that, apparently, had been secretly carried on in the deepest recesses of her heart, in those shadow lands she wasn’t aware of. 

Only, this time, it was worse than ever. Because she wasn’t simply being forced to face her feelings for Jane because of their comedy of errors, she was also battling her own feelings for Marcus. Yes, she knew he had been awful with her, but a part of her still thought that there had to be a reason, that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fallen for Francine on purpose, that somewhere it had to be a reason for his behavior. Rationally, she knew it wasn’t the case, and if a friend of hers would tell her that something like that had happened to her, she would say something in the lines of “ _You crazy or what? Just, let it go and look for someone else!”_ , but it wasn’t a girlfriend she was talking about, it was her and she had never been a good judge (or a successful counselor) when it came to her own life.

If she was… well, (a) she would have given up on Jane a long time before, instead of waiting for something like thirteen years before starting a serious ( _yeah, sure_ ) relationship, or (b) she would have jumped his bones as soon as she saw him into that FBI interrogation room after two years apart. 

But reminiscing on what ifs and buts wasn’t going to help her out: Marcus had “broken up” with her, and Jane had saved her (yet again) by staging _their_ engagement, and now the whole building was congratulating them on their impeding wedding.

She groaned, and when, at her side, Jane chuckled amused, she hit him softly on the shoulder with her fist, shaking her a little. She was on her way to an honest to God smile, when, suddenly, her phone rang, and without bothering to check the identity of the caller, she answered. 

“Lisbon.” She said in her most authoritative and sure voice, showing to the world that she was a woman in control of her emotions, on a mission.

“Are you with Jane? Can you put me on speaker? Please? Please!” Teresa sighed as she heard Grace’s voice at the other side of the line, and her good mood suddenly vanished, replaced by something cold and dark. 

She hated what she was about to do, because hearing Grace’s voice, as excited as the one of a child on Christmas morning, broke her heart, but she guessed there was really no other way; it was better this way, this way she could save her face, her pride, and their whole collective hearts. 

As much as she hated herself in that moment, she couldn’t do otherwise: she had to lie to her best friend, because she couldn’t say something in the line of “ _Yeah, sorry, we are not really engaged. Jane just decided to save my face when I realized that my boyfriend, when he told me that I didn’t have to feel caged in a long-distance relationship, really meant that_ he _wasn’t interested in said relationship. But ehy, as I’m supposed to be a good cop and a great detective, do you mind keeping it for yourself? Even if I know that Abbott calls you twice a week begging to accept his job offer…”_

Sighing, Teresa put Grace on speaker, regretting the choice as soon as she saw Jane’s amused expression; she felt rage surging into her whole being, and not for the first time that day she wished to punch him in the nose already. He deserved physical punishment: he was having way too fun at her expenses, and it wasn’t right.It was all his fault. And Marcus, and… yes. It was partly her fault, too. But just a tiny little bit. Mostly, she blamed the men in her life for the mass she was currently in. 

“Ehy, Grace!” she said, trying to sound as happy as possible; Jane was probably right, in the last few years she had improved her acting skills. If she hadn’t been herself, she would have never guessed she was that close to being on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

And then… something happened, something that she have never thought possible if she wasn’t seeing it with her own two eyes. Because as soon as the word “Grace” left her lips, at her side, Jane soundly gulped, and turned a lovely and nice shade of red all over.

She smiled. Patrick Jane was blushing- and it was, although indirectly, because of _her._ It felt too good to be true.

“Ehm.” Jane started, clearing his voice. Teresa wanted to giggle- seeing him behaving like a fish out of water was just too fun, and it made her feel a little better. If he felt alittle guilty too, a little embarrassed as well… well, she guessed she could survive the experience, after all. “Grace, I know what you want to say and please, allow me to tell you that we really are…”

But Grace cut him short, with a voice laced with both tears and happiness. “You big fat liar! Wayne asked you if you and Lisbon were together and… and…” Grace stated to sob, and even if Teresa was repeatedly punching him in the arm, Jane simply dismissed with a movement of his head the whole thing; Grace _was supposed_ to be emotional, after all, considering she had just entered her second semester and her body was bombarded with hormones. 

“Grace…” Jane said, looking everywhere but at Lisbon, and his behavior didn’t go unnoticed to the FBI agent; apparently, he feared that the omission of Rigsby’s simple question, _are you and the boss together,_ could make her mad. 

Well, actually, it was rather cute, and she sighed a little at the thought of Jane having to answer such a question… the poor man always struggled with problems of the heart, more than she had always done, but she guessed she couldn’t blame him for this, between his uprising, his troubles with opening up because he always saw so much, _too much,_ whenever he met someone’s gaze, and obviously… Angela. 

For a moment, Teresa asked herself all kind of questions. Jane, as far as she knew, hadn’t been in a relationship after his wife’s death; he had flirted with Sophie to win her trust and an exit ticket from the asylum, dated, once, Kristina, as both an experiment and a way to get her trust. And then, there were Erika Flynn, Lorelai Martins and all the other marks he had seduced, used and abandoned one way or another; even Kim, Teresa was sure, hadn’t been that serious; yes, she knew (from outside sources) that Jane had taken off his ring to have dinner with her, but he had put it back on the following day, and the fact that he had gotten drunk because of fear that something could happen showed that it had meant little to northing for him: the FBI agent had been a distraction, an island in the sea of chaos and solitude that his life had turned into after he had escaped. 

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t doing this just for her. maybe he was doing it also for himself. He had said so much himself: she _had_ to know that he had some ulterior motive hidden underneath the knight in shining armor facade. Maybe… maybe it was easier pretending to be in love with her, than having to explain himself to everyone; she guessed it was hard for him, he had loved so much his wife, and now people expected him to just let it go. Yes, it had been a long time, but how are you supposed to move on after the death of the love of your life? Angela had been his soul-mate, his anchor, his whole world… and now, she wasn’t any longer, and he still blamed himself. Getting and killing Red John had lessened the pain, but she knew the sensation all too well: that pain never really left, it stayed with you for the rest of your life; it was like phantom pain in a missing limb, months, years without feeling nothing, and then, suddenly, here it was again, the memory of something that wasn’t no more that crushed your heart and your body with its power. 

She looked at Jane with tenderness and affection; she remembered that pain, had felt it herself as well, but she had been able to learn to live _with_ it. After all, as traumatic as it had been, it had been her mother who had died, but she had always been a rational person, who knew that parents weren’t supposed to survive their children, but Jane had struggled- and somehow, he still did, with the greatest loss: it wasn’t just the love of his life he had buried, but also his child. Was it possible to heal from this, come back after such a tragedy?

Frankly, after so many years at his side… she was still struggling to find an answer to this very question.

Jane was still struggling for words, and Grace was still sobbing on the other side of the phone, when Teresa decided to take matters into her own hands, guessing that, after all, two – or better yet, three- could play that game. 

“Grace, I know we hurt you, but… you know, we wanted to live for a little bit longer into the…” she gulped, closing her eyes. “You know, we were in the honeymooners phase and…”

She blushed, and Jane, at her side, mouthed the word “ _naughty_ ” laughing under his teeth, as Teresa remembered herself that, if she hit him too hard and he had an incident, _she_ would be injured too- and frankly, even if her life had turned into a soap-opera, she kind of liked being alive. 

Grace sniffed. “Oh, I understand. I mean… I know you did it because of us.” She sniffed, again. “In case something went wrong. So we didn’t have to choose sides…”

“Yeah…” Teresa whispered, while Grace was still talking without noticing that her long-time friend had stopped her. 

“…And I know you are an adult, and it’s not like we are _really_ family, even if we kind of are, but… I’m not exactly _mad_ with you. It’s just that, you’ve been pining after him for so long, and, I mean, it’s my fault. I’ve been a detective, and I should have understood that something was going on between the two of you when I saw you reading his letters the last time I was visiting in the middle of the night, and…”

Teresa blushed even more- if that was actually possible- and at her side Jane erupted in an honest-to-God laugh; while still listening to Grace’s love ramble, he scanned the road, and as soon as he could he parked the car, turning into his seat to face Teresa with an expression so amused that made her heart clench with a mix of happiness (because she had been part of the reason of his happiness) and sadness (because the fact that she had been in unrequired love with him for long wasn’t exactly her favorite topic of conversation).

“Grace! Enough!” Teresa screamed, jumping to end the conversation, but Jane apparently still knew a couple of tricks from his poker days, and stole the phone from her hand before she could do anything, or even realize what was going on. God. She just hoped that Grace had heard her and gotten the message clear: there were things that were better off left unsaid, and unknown to Jane. He had e big enough ego, he didn’t need to know about her drunken confessions of love post-Vegas and post-Red John. 

“Really, Lisbon? You’ve been in love with me for so long?” Jane asked her, amused. God. She really, really didn’t know what to with him. Because he was so happy, and when he was happy… she felt happy, too. She didn’t know if it was because the special bound they shared, or if it was something he had always carried with himself, but Jane’s happiness, his smile, was contagious. Because, frankly: what sane person would have been _that happy_ finding a real pony in their own office? But she had been, because she had turned to lecture him, but then, their eyes had met, and all she could have been able to do was mimicking his expression, one of happiness and childish satisfaction. 

Teresa made a very un-lady like sound, something between a grunt and an animal call he couldn’t pinpoint exactly, then she turned to face him, acting like he had so many times before: she decided that, if he could dismiss every important and meaningful conversation they had shared until that very moment, then, she could dismiss her own feelings for him, too. She felt like she was allowed to, after having kept her own emotions buried deep within her heart for well over a decade. 

“What? I’m a living, heterosexual human female, Jane. _Of course_ I had a crush on you when we first met. Have ever looked at yourself in the mirror?” she tried to keep it light and casual, because, had she already mentioned that she wanted to dismiss the whole thing like it was nothing? But it was harder than she thought, she realized when she felt a knot in her throat.

But Jane smiled, and looked at her with such a tenderness and affection, that it broke her heart, made her wish to puny everyone who had ever made him suffer take that good, wonderful man in her arms and comfort him, tell him everything was going to be all right, that she was going to take care of him, to protect him. But she didn’t- it wasn’t her place to, after all; instead she allowed him to ruffle her hair like she was his _“angry little princess”._ Jane shook his head, then told her something that, for some unknown reason, took her breath away- maybe because how much he really knew her, after all. 

“No, you didn’t like me because I’m good looking, and it’s not even because you like a bit of danger along with your pleasure. No.” He said, interlacing their fingers and looking at her in the same way he had done the previous evening. “You wanted to save me. Heal me. Because you are a good soul, Teresa.”

Grace was still listening- something that, apparently, the both of them had forgotten- and was sniffing over the line when Teresa claimed that they had reached their crime scene and that she was sorry, but she was going to call her another time. It was another small lie, another thing that, had Grace known, would have shattered their trust, their friendship, but Teresa wasn’t sure she could handle her best friend in that moment. Too much was going on- and she didn’t understand the half of it. If she had to face Jane, she need to do it on her own, at least right now. Besides, there were things she and Jane were probably supposed to be talking about.

Jane put back in motion the car, and they drove in silence for the next fifteen minutes; then, Teresa cleared her voice.

“I didn’t tell her.” She simply said. Her voice was low, and she seemed… ashamed? Jane wasn’t sure what she was feeling, for once- he had always had an hard time reading her, regardless of what she thought- and he wasn’t sure if she knew, too. He knew that, despite everything, Lisbon _liked_ him, so she wasn’t ashamed of people believing they were into a relationship; so, what was it? Was it because Grace had believed she was in love with Marcus, and was scared that her friend would deem her easy now? Or was it because, after less than twenty-four hours, this so-called lie had already escaped their control?

Jane just smirked. “Cho did. I think he wanted to collect some old money from Rigsby.” She nodded, and he went on, his expression suddenly changed. Jane wasn’t exactly _hurt,_ he seemed… watchful? “The Austin office is quite… friendly, and in a matter of days people will start congratulating us.”

She nodded, again. People, actually, had already started to congratulate them, and Lisbon had almost told every one of them that no, they didn’t have to, because no, she wasn’t really getting married to Jane. But obviously, she had kept this little particular for herself… she sighed. She should have been used to it by now. Lying for and because of Jane wasn’t exactly new territory for her, after all. 

“Jane… Grace… Kim… they are my friends. I hate lying to them.” she shook her head, trying to send away the tears that were burning her eyes, but she couldn’t. It was too much, all at the same time, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

“So don’t.” He simply said, shrugging his shoulders. “If they ask, don’t give them too many particulars. Being vague is the secret of the con. Just keep underling that _you_ are engaged _with me,_ and all will be well.”

She groaned. She hated when he pretended to be oblivious, to not understand what she truly meant. “Yeah, well, it would still be a lie, smart-ass.” she said, finishing her sentence with a forced laugh. But Jane didn’t say a word, he gulped, _again,_ and looked in front of himself, both scared and impatient. 

“What if,” he stared, then stopped, clearing his voice. “What if it wasn’t a lie?”

Lisbon gasped in shock, and Jane turned to her, ready to shop her if she was trying to jump out of the car while they were on the road, but Teresa seemed to be way past panicking, she was looking at him in the same way she had done the evening before, when she had asked him if she had forgotten they had gotten engaged. 

He wanted to groan. Because, well, she was downright adorable when she behaved like that. All the time he was the one in need of protecting, and now, finally, finally he could take care of her, gave her back all the love and affection she had showered him with for so many years. 

Only… Lisbonhad only always been affectionate, because she feared, or maybe he couldn’t give her anything in return; of course it had been the case, but Teresa had never really understood his motivations. She had always assumed he couldn’t love her because he had been too much in love with Angela, but it had only been because he was scared of paintinga target on her head, putting her in more danger than she usually was.

And then… then, he had left, and when he had returned, she had asked him to stop trying to control her life, so he had decided to put his needs and desires and feelings aside, allowing her to be happy with a new job and a new man in her life. And now… now she was respected on the job, wasn’t threatened any longer if he pulled any stunts, but mostly, as from twenty-four hours before, she was single, and in need of his help, his presence in her life. And dammit- he couldn’t wait to start the con of his life for real, and he felt that right there, right now was the perfect time. 

“Teresa…” he started, because he needed to break the silence, and he wanted to know what she thought. Maybe it wasn’t the declaration she had always dreamt of, hell, she probably didn’t got that it was a declaration at all, but it was sheer torture listening to the sound of the silence between them. “Teresa… you know that if we wanted to… we could get married, right?”

She didn’t even shook her head. Just stared ahead. And then…

“I… Marcus left me yesterday, Jane. And… and we don’t love each other in the right way…” she said, panicking. He grinned. Ah, how much he liked an old-fashioned Lisbon breakdown- even if what he liked the most was the prospective of lure her into his life and show her that, using her words, they loved each other in the right way.

“Maybe we are not in love with each other.” He started, and when he had to deny his love for her, he wondered if the Illuminists, when threatened by the Church to change their believes, felt that way too. “But you know that I love you. I wrote it one hundred and four times at the end my letters. And… and I know you feel the same. Because, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have accepted my presence in your life for so long- not even on the job.”

Lisbon looked at him from her seat, in silence. She couldn’t believe Jane was really asking her such a thing. A man who had gotten married out of love, who had loved so much his wife… and now, here he was. She wondered if it wasn’t the real reason behind his proposal: she was a safe deal, after all, they knew each other better than anyone else, better than themselves, probably. With her, he knew that there would never be to lie or pretend; he could get the best of two words: she understood him, didn’t expect anything in return and was going to give him companionship and sex. 

And what about her? She had thought that Marcus would marry her, once back from his assignment, but he had changed her for the newest model. She wasn’t that young any longer- also because of over a decade spent pining after Jane- and her better years were way behind her. So, no, she wasn’t going to cry herself to sleep every night because she was in her new home all alone at night. Nope. No freaking way. If Fate, God or whoever were giving her this chance, she better take it.

“Yeah, well… I guess there are relationships based on less than a friendship like ours…” she finally admitted. She faced Jane, and wondered if they could _really_ do it. God. Marrying for convenience and companionship… it felt so old-fashioned, she couldn’t believe they were contemplating it. “But I still think it’s crazy. Right?” she asked, just to make sure. Because, as absurd as it could be, the more time she spent in the car with him thinking about marrying Jane, the more it made sense. 

“Nah.” He simply said, but then he turned, and saw that Teresa was on the verge of tears. He sighed. He hated seeing her like that, hurt and scared. “Ok, listen, you don’t have to decide anything today, all right? Once the case is closed, you’ll get back home, run that cinnamon and lemon bubble bath you love so much, drink a glass of Merlot while listening to some good Jazz music on your couch, clad in that red pajama top of yours and you’ll think about it. Alone. Calm. All right?”

She nodded. She didn’t even want to know how he knew he so well. That was what she did when she was tired or stressed: run a bubble bath, drink a glass of wine, listen to some good music clad only with the red pajama top. She groaned. When a man behaved like that, was she supposed to be scared, or flattered?

Well, it was Jane, so the third option was the right one- annoyed by his known-it-all attitude.

Even if it was rather sweet. 

Ok. Flattered was it. 

She smiled. “Sometimes, you are too good with me. Too good _for me._ And I can’t really understand why…” she sighed, her eyes half-closed as she was falling asleep. It was an early morning, and the poor woman hadn’t probably gotten any sleep because of the two men in her life. Marcus with his fiancée. Himself with his “proposal” of sort.

He found a quiet lay-bay and parked the car in the shadow of a big, old three, thinking back to the day he had “forced” Teresa to perform a trust fall, and texted Fisher and Cho that they were having a small car issues and they would be a bit late on the scene.

Then, he turned to face Teresa, and when her lips opened in a silent sight, he couldn’t resist temptation, and touch them with his owns. He cupped her face, and looked at the woman he treasured more than his own life with a longing he hadn’t felt since he was a young man in love with a girl he wasn’t supposed to have. 

“Just think about it, Teresa.” He whispered to no one in particular, his breathing hot on her skin, his voice full of sadness and desire. “Just think about it…”


	3. Chapter Three

 

Of course, theyhad been both right, because as soon as the case was closed and they had a bit of time to just relax, back at HQ people started complimenting them- and, mostly, Lisbon. There were days she was kind of mad because of this; people wasn’t supposed to say how lucky _she_ was. _Damn it,_ she often thought while shaking hands with people she barely knew, and also complete strangers, _Jane is supposed to be lucky because he got me, not the other way around._

She guessed that they were partly right, but only because they didn’t know him like she did; yes, Jane was charismatic, funny, smart, talented and, also, extremely handsome, _but_ she had been the one to put up with him for over a decade. She knew him inside out, the good and the bad; she had seen him at his worst, knew everything he had done in his life, even long before they met. And yet… Yet, she had never been able to NOT forgive him. Yet, she had always been at his side.

She sighed, realizing that it was probably the least but not last indication that she had been long in love with that charming devil. She shook her head, trying to think of something else than Patrick Jane; after he had _really_ proposed to her- sort of – her mind had been filled with him. He was still waiting for answer, and had left her time to think about it, between the chaos her life had turned into and the job, but now the case was closed, and she couldn’t help but concentrate on all the memories and the regrets accumulated in over a decade. Part of her felt _wanted_ to accept his offer, feeling like she owned herself at least this chance at getting what she had wanted for so long. But…

But, she wasn’t sure she could handle the repercussions of her actions. Yes, she still felt something for Jane, even after such a long time and after everything he did to her, but in the last few night she had always cried herself to sleep thinking about Marcus, about what she thought he would have given her someday and how he had broken her heart without giving a damn. 

And it wasn’t even the worse. Because, as she kept remind herself, there was a tiny part of her heart that still loved Jane, and that part knew that he didn’t love her in the right way. Jane wanted a lover, wanted a partner, knowing all too well that there was no way he could ever had what he had once shared with Angela. Yes, he cared about her, but was it going to be enough, had she decided to say yes?

She wasn’t sure, and frankly, she was a tiny bit scared of finding out. 

“Ehy, I know I already told you at the party, but…” Kim told her as Lisbon was eyeing, slightly nauseated, a slice of closed-case pizza. She wasn’t in the mood for food, or chit-chat or whatever. She had too much in her mind, _but_ she was supposed to be a freshly engaged woman, ready to marry the woman of her dreams. Yes, she was supposed to be stressed, but also exited and a bit hyped-up. “Congratulations. We are all happy for the two of you.”

Lisbon blushed, biting her lips, whispering a thank you to her friend and colleague. She felt a bit bad, lying to Kim like that. Yes, she didn’t shared with her the same tie she had with Grace, but she was a good enough friend, and had she already said to herself (and Jane) that lying to your friends was a bad thing to do?

“You know, it’s strange, but…” Kim said, a bit unsure. Teresa realized that the younger woman was starting to behave with her like she did with Jane, walking a bit on eggshells. She sighed again, already knowing where this conversation was going. It was going to be personal, it was going to about her relationship with Jane, and it was probably to be a mention or two about Marcus dearest. “I thought you were interested in Pike. I mean, I know the two of you dated for a while, and I was wondering if he had told you about….”

Kim didn’t end the sentence. Teresa’s expression told her there was absolutely no need. She already got her point all right. 

“Francine? Nope. I had no idea until he introduced us.” She paused, and instead of the pizza, she took a cup of coffee. She wasn’t feeling like drinking, either, but at least she could use it as a physical obstacle between herself and Fisher and could _pretend_ to drink. “But, you know, when he moved to Washington he made it clear that there was no need for us to be exclusive.”

She wanted to face-palm herself. _Great,_ Teresa thought, _now she is going to believe that I am an idiot because my boyfriend was sleeping around my back, and that, on top of that, I am a slut too because_ I _was sleeping around, too._

“Yeah, I mean… he is a good boy, but he isa bit of a womanizer, you know? Besides, he is kind of a sailor, moving around so much, a woman in every port…” 

“Yeah.” Teresa reluctantly admitted, trying to appear like she couldn’t care any less. Apparently, everything that had happened between them hadn’t mattered to Marcus at all; she had been just another notch on his bed.

“Well… I am glad you feel so. I mean, when they told me that he had gotten engaged, I feared that you were too invested in him, but…” Kim paused, quite happy. “But if I have to be honest, I think Jane could make a much better husband for you.”

Lisbon gasped, quite scandalized. “I’m not bossy!” she hissed.

Ok, she knew that she could be bossy, indeed, but it was her nature. She had been head of her family, sister, father and mother at the same time for her younger siblings, and she had been a boss for a decade or so. And now she had cooled her attitude down. 

Especially with a certain consultant. 

Kim shook her head, rolling her eyes a bit. “What I am saying, is that Marcus loves a quiet life, he doesn’t mind having people taking care of things for him. He comes from FBI blood, his family arranged his studies and his carrier, and I’m sure he would have just loved if you would have taken charge in your relationship. And I don’t think that having a puppet-husband would have done any good to you, or your marriage, in the long run. What you need is a man who can match your strength of character, and Jane is exactly that.”

She opened her mouth to deny such a statement, but Teresa realized she couldn’t. Kim was right about everything; Marcus tended to allow others to solve his problems and fix his life, and yes, he was an easy-going kind of man, but the only reason he didn’t tend to lose his temper was because he either told his opponent they were right or found a way out of any discussion. Sometimes, when they had been dating, he would have stormed out of the room in the middle of the argument, just to come back to her later and act like nothing had happened at all; he would be the caring boyfriend, and she would feel stupid for being childish.

But, she had been stupid. She had believed him, read too much in what he said and did, and expected to be asked in wife, just to meet _his fiancée._ And she couldn’t talk with anyone- but Jane- about this, about the hurt, rage and sufferance. Because otherwise, people would have seen her engagement to Jane for what it truly was, a charade to save her face, Jane’s attempt torescue the poor damsel in distress. 

She met Jane’s eyes in the distance, and saying hello to her coworkers, she took her jacket and purse an went in his direction. He was talking with Cho, and another guy was shaking his hand- _he better be complimenting him for his catch,_ she thought – and tenderly touched the blonde man’s shoulder. He turned, and he smile grew as he saw who it was. 

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey.” She simply answered, smiling in return. Had she already said that Jane’s smile was contagious? “Can we talk somewhere?” she asked as soon as the others were out of earshot. 

He nodded, and took his jacket from his couch in the bullpen, saying hello with a gesture to a couple of people, and promising Cho to give him the next day the name of a book Teresa had never heard of. “There’s a quiet diner a couple of blocks from here. You want to go there?”

She just made a movement with her nose. She still didn’t feel like eating, telling so many lies was probably giving her another ulcer. “I’m not in the mood for eating…” she said. 

“You just a cereal bar at lunch, Lisbon, and a couple of cups of coffee. And not even cops can survive only on that thing you call a beverage.” He sighed, hating that he was right, but still rolled her eyes. Just because he was right, it didn’t mean that he had to be _completely_ right. For God’s sake, they were fake-engaged, and he behaved already like he was her over-protective husband. “I went grocery-shopping this morning, tomatoes and salad are fresh and if you’ll behave I could easily offer some biological hard-boiled eggs as well…”

She snorted, wining a little as they were already leaving the building. “Ugh. I’m not in the mood for the airstream either, Jane. Can’t we do this at my place, instead?”

But Jane chuckled- obviously knowing that it was nothing more than her attempt to (a)maintain control in a well-known habitat, and (b)because she hated his airstream, a reminder that he lived on a house with wheels and that he could leave whenever he wanted, leaving her behind yet again. 

Well, he was going to surprise her: that wasn’t his plan at all, and she didn’t know the full truth.

“Tsk, tsk, Lisbon…” he said, as he offered her his palm to receive the keys of the dark SUV. Yes, he knew that Lisbon wanted to drive- yet again to maintain control- but after all, she didn’t know where they were going, and he didn’t want to talk and spoil the surprise. “The airstream is only for when I’m on the road.” He said, without adding anything more. 

She groaned, but surprise, surprise, she gave up, and not two minutes later they were on the road- with Jane driving in his usual style- taking streets she had never seen before; couple of times, she had been at the airstream, and knew where he usually parked it, and she knew it was in the opposite direction. In silence, she wondered if his carnie attitude hadn’t come back with a passion, compelling him to move it at least in another zone of the city, but the neighborhood didn’t scream exactly “airstream park nearby”. 

And then, he parked her car in front of an evergreen hedge that was closed by a wrought iron gate.

It was an _actual_ house that took her breath away; it wasn’t state of the art or a mansion like his Malibu place had been, but it was… homey. As they moved towards the front-door, she noticed all kind of things; she liked the fact that it was in a quiet and classy neighborhood, without, though, being too uptight; she liked the white wood and the grey roof, but what she loved was the big garden (big enough for a big dog, just like she liked them), filled with trees and flowers, and how the yard was protected not by a fence, but evergreen plants. It was big, two floors- but not _too big –_ and it had high windows that probably enlightened the inside in a marvelous way. When he opened the door, she followed him inside, without saying a word, and she discovered that it was as nice as the outside. She wandered for the place without waiting for Jane to show her around, and gasped when she discovered her old office couch (the white one he had bought for her) in front of a huge television; she blushed, but yet again she didn’t say anything. But she entered in the kitchen, and got mercerized looking outside the window that gave on a porch, where two blackbirds were playing in a pool of water, running after each other like they were children. 

“Caught you staring?” Jane asked, nuzzling the tender skin of her neck as he enveloped her in an embrace from behind.

“I think they are cute…” she said, a bit absent. She tried to remember if she had ever seen a documentary about blackbirds, or read about them. Those two were both stark black, and she couldn’t remember if the male and the female were the same or whatever. She liked to think that, in a fairy-tale kind of word, the two were childhood friends, that grew together, changed at each other side with the passing of time, until, one day, they didn’t fall in love with each other, just when they were almost losing each other. 

She wondered if it could be her story, too. 

“Well, Lisbon, I’m sorry to disappoint you, by they are both males. Probably fighting over the territory.” He tsk-tsked against her skin. His breath stirred her hair, and as she gasped at the onslaught of sensations, she felt a whiff of faint, spicy perfume. She closed her eyes, barely resisting arching into his body, morning at loud. What was it, she wondered? Was it cologne, or had he put on aftershave for her? “Salad’s ready. You want some wine, too?”

She nodded, and he parted, taking from the kitchen aisle two glasses of red; he offered her one, then, with his free hand on the small of her back, he guided her to seat on the couch; right there, on the small coffee table in front of the piece of furniture, he had arranged their plates of salad and some deliciously-smelling bread. 

As she sat down, Teresa blushed. How long had she been lost in the house, in the two birds playing and fighting, that he had been able to do so much in the meanwhile? She felt ashamed, like being caught off guard was a bad thing. But maybe, she didn’t have to be surprised. It was Jane she was talking about, after all. 

She took a sip of wine, and hummed in appreciation, she turned to face Jane, ready to ask him about the place, but the question died on her lips. Still, she was scared of knowing the truth. 

But… it was him, and it was her, and there were things that didn’t need saying when it came to the two of them. As he traced her nose with a finger, she smiled, knowing from his expression that he was going to talk, and that whatever he was going to say, it would matter. 

_ She  _ would matter to Jane.

“I needed something a little bit more stable.” He said, then, as he finally noticed that his finger was still drawing patterns on her skin, he retreated his appendage, like he was burning, and shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing at all. “The market was still low. I still got the money. It was a convenient investment.”

She wanted to scream, to grab him for the lapels of his shirt and kiss himuntil he didn’t stoop to hide behind a mask of cynicism. God. She hated when he did that. He had done so since they had met, always playing a part, always pretending to be a heartless bastard. But he wasn’t, and he had to accept that. Because a bastard would have never written one hundred and four letters to her, risking being found, nor he would have acted like he had done to save her pride. 

An heartless bastard would have never said “I’m always going to save you, whatever you like it or not.” 

She heard as he put his glass on the coffee table, and without asking her, without that she fought him, he took her own one and put it next to his own; then, with an arm around her shoulders, he lifted her chin with his free hand as she drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening at the realization of what was going to happen. 

Then… then, she closed her eyes as his lips found her own, firm, warm andcompelling. His hands slid from her chin to her throat, then to her shoulder, and grabbed the fabric of her shirt like for dear life. Her hands were on his sleeves, feeling through the cloth the taunt muscles of his upper arms- he often swam, she remembered in some distant corner of her mind. She knew that things were turning too heated, and so, instead of feeling him up, she pushed him a little, but without too much power, like she didn’t know herself if she wanted to be ravaged on the couch or not.

He didn’t let it of her immediately, but after a moment his grip on her body lessened, and his mouth left hers. She closed her eyes and took a big breath, her hands still flat on his chest. “Jane… we need to talk.” She said. But she wanted to say so much more. She wanted to tell him that they weren’t’ that way, that he had never showed to want her before presented with risk of losing her once and for all to another man; but, she knew him. In order to make her relax and see the light, he would have remembered her of that whispered confession of love, of that moment they shared on that cliff, or how much his fugue-self had wanted her in his bed. 

But, of course, everything would have ended up escalating from there. she would have told him that he had claimed to have forgotten to have said the words, that it had been just a trick to leave her behind and deal with Red John on his own, like he wanted to, and that he hadn’t really been himself. 

So, knowing what would have come, she kept it quiet, and instead, she said: “We aren’t really engaged, and we aren’t that kind of friends who share a with benefits relationship.” 

He smiled of a lazy smile at her, the kind of smile she expected to see on a man in the morning, when he woke up close to the woman he loved, and he started to play with her hair. “I’ll buy you a ring. Would it make it real enough for you?”

She looked at him with an expression he knew all too well, reminding him of all the times she had been annoyed or mad with him, all the times he had been lectured because of this or that. So, he let it go of her, sat like a gentleman looking at the screen instead of her, and crossed his arms. “Ok, you win, let’s talk about it properly.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and couldn’t resist temptation; he couldn’t have her, get lost in the abyss of her body, couldn’t conquer her lips once more, but he wouldn’t be denied a little contact; so, trusting that she would forgive him, he interlaced their fingers. “What’s the trouble?”

She shook her head, looking at her feet. Where he touched her, she felt like burning, but she preferred to try to not pay attention to this. “We can’t go on pretending, Jane….”

“But there’s no need to, Teresa. I offered a solution.” He tugged her hand, forcing her to turn and face him, and then, after few, interminable moments of silence, he asked what had been on his mind since she had entered his place. “Have you thought about it?”

She half laughed, but it was forced, nervous, more to break the tension, alleviate the whole thing than because it was what she wanted to actually do. “Right. Jane, a pretended marriage is even crazier than a pretended engagement. I mean, you don’t want to marry me.”

Jane chuckled. “Trustme, I’m not against the idea.” When she looked at him with lifted eyebrows, quizzically, he rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Teresa, you are not a baby. You know at least one of the reasons I want to be with you.”

She made a face, almost indignant and disgusted. “You are aware that in the twenty-first century you don’t need to be married, nor to pay, to have sex, right? Especially _you,_ Jane, trust me.”

“You know, it’s interesting. You haven’t denied, not even once, that you desire me. Now, what does it say about you, uh?” he grinned. “You’ve been kissing me, Lisbon, those past few days. Maybe not the first time- even if I like to think that your subconscious knew it wasn’t Marcus- but after that… it had always been me.”

She shook her head. “Ok, I’ll admit you are a good-looking man and I find you arousing. But it doesn’t mean anything. You don’t get married because your partner give you the hots!” 

Jane shook his head again, starting to feel a bit exasperated. She wasn’t getting it- or maybe she did, but she was seeing a whole other thing altogether. Of course he wanted her- which sane man wouldn’t?- but it wasn’t just that. It was that she knew that they were Lisbon and Jane, and that if they tried it, if they were to keep kissing, end up in bed together, nothing would be the same, ever again. Actually, he rectified looking at her lips, everything had already changed, and he guessed that, at least from him, there was no going back from her ardent kisses. 

It was time to tell her as much, though. 

“Teresa… let’s be honest. We ruined each other for any other person.” He tried to put some humor in his statement, like it was a silly joke, but they both knew it wasn’t. They weren’t’ Teresa and Jane any longer; they were a man and a woman, and now they were both aware of their desire, they were as open as they could in that regard; of course, a part of them had always knew it- they both had spent many nights fantasizing about the other- but now there was nothing between them, no Red John, no Marcus, no job.

But… but Lisbon knew there were other complications, too. Even if she wasn’t in a relationship with Marcus any longer, even if he had gotten and married another woman, she still felt something for him. Yes, Jane had pushed him away from the front of her mind, but he still existed. 

Suddenly, she felt like exploding. 

Jane took her in his arms, and like he had done in the past with his daughter, he rocked her, calming her down as she silently sobbed. He kissed the crown of her dark hair at closed eyes. “It’s ok, little one. We’ll work it out.”

She giggled, for some unknown reason, at his statement, and Jane stopped to do what he was doing and stared at her. Maybe Jane was right and she was having a breakdown.  Or maybe it was just that she and Jane were probably having very different ideas regarding “working things out”.

“You sound just like Rhett.” She told him. It wasn’t an insult. It wasn’t his fault if she hadn’t really thought about him as a real male before. Jane had always been a bit of a metrosexual; now, the beard was helping out a bit, but still, it was hard to forget that he was the one who used to hide behind her metaphorical gown.

He laughed, and his laughter shook his chest; she lifted her head to look at him;  he was very handsome, with the tanned skin, sun-kissed, his fair, wild curls and even the pearl white teeth. And his sea-green eyes. She couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t even think about them, so much they took her breath away. 

Her gaze went to the open collar of his shirt, and to the three buttons left open;  she was as conscious as never before of their closeness. She took a big breath, and decided to remove her hands from his chest, and put some space between their heated bodies. 

“You don’t have to fight it, Teresa.” He whispered.  But she shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. 

“I still love Marcus.”

“Marcus doesn’t want you.” She raised her eyes to face him, hurt. She had always knew that Jane could be cruel, but he had always avoided being harsh with her, right from the start; as someone once said, she was his Achilles’ heel, his soft spot. She was going to say something- even something lame and childish like _You are mean –_ but she was caught off guard by his assault. He kissed her passion, without any gentleness, pushing her lithe form in the couch, his whole body pressed tight against her; with one hand he grabbed her long, silky hair, while the other one grabbed one of her breasts through her shirt, until he didn’t feel beneath his palm her heart going crazy. 

He moved his lips away from her mouth, leaving just a breath of air between them, and looking at her dark eyes, he breathed in her mouth his next words. “I, on the other hand, want you very much.”

She knew, she knew it to be true at least in that moment, when she could feel against her belly the heavy weight, the hard pressure of his arousal. But she didn’t want to admit that she, too, wanted him too, not after everything he had done to her, not with Marcus still owning part of her. But Jane was a man on a mission, and so, with the hand that had been groping her breast, he changed tactic, deciding to play with her nipples through the layers of cloth. She felt like electricity burned through her whole being when he pinched the tender tissue, and she felt ashamed that he could turn her on in such a way, but it was a feeling that didn’t last long. 

She turned her head, hide her face in the crock of his neck and breathed in his scent, reassuring herself that maybe, just maybe, he was right, that he could fix everything and that things could get all right once again. His breathing quieted, and inhaled her scent as she stopped to fondle her; he cupped her face, forcing Lisbon to lift her eyes and look at him. 

“Your body tells me that you want me too.” He told her, his voice but a whisper in the silence of the room. She shook her head, trying to fight back the tears while he kissed her hair again and again, soothing her pain away. 

“But it’s not the same” she said. But what she wanted to tell him, was, _I don’t know if it’s enough._

He said something again, his voice so low she wasn’t sure she heard it right, something about it being enough for now if she wasn’t betrayed, and then stopped touching her altogether. He let it go of her, and sat on the opposite side of the couch, running his hands through his rebel curls. He took big breaths, looked in the distance at nothing in particular, bite his lips like to find the strength, the courage to say something, but the heavy silence that enveloped them seemed to last forever. 

Then, he finally spoke again. 

“I know… I know you think your heart is broken… but you will get over it, eventually. Heartbreak doesn’t last forever. Even the worst.” He paused as she gasped, well aware what, or better yet, _who_ he was talking about- Angela, his beloved wife, the one she couldn’t believe hewas letting it go of. His eyes fell, like many times after their undercover stunt when he had first posed as her boyfriend, on his left ring finger, empty as it had been since that day, when she had said yes to Marcus Pike and left him alone at the office. Even after so long, he still felt the phantom pain, the heavy weight of the gold, but whereas at the beginning it had been fear- just like when he had taken off for Fisher- now it was because of desire. Desire of replacing it.

“Now, I can finally think of my family in the happy times, and I am glad we shared so much, the three of us… glad that I loved them, that I knew and understood them. The memories aren’t often painful now.”

Teresa gasped again, feeling bad about herself. She was complaining about not having Marcus any longer, but at least it had been him to put an end to their relationship; a sociopath had destroyed Jane’s happiness, leaving his alone in the dark. Marcus was still alive, and so was she. Like Jane now, one day she would learn to live and love without pain or bad memories- unfortunately, that day seemed still far away. 

And Jane…

Jane understood why she couldn’t love like that any longer, why she didn’t want to. He had been through the worst experience possible, and he wouldn’t expect too much; he still loved his first wife, something she was well aware of, and since her heart still belonged to Marcus, she wouldn’t expect much in return; what he was suggesting was sensible for the both of them- care, affection, tenderness, companionship, sex and a safe pride.

“Teresa… in my own way, I love you. That’s why I want to marry you. Will you?”

She stared ahead of herself, trying to clear her mind. He had said the words again, and she knew them to be true, but Jane didn’t love her as a husband; he loved her as he loved their other team-members, but with the added bonus of the sexual attraction; she, too, loved him, but she wasn’t sure she did with the same depth she did Marcus. 

Also, she was pretty surethat the idea of sex with Jane was half scary, half exiting. Because, yes, she wanted him, responded to every one of his touches, but she felt like it was too much, like every time he skimmed her skin, she felt everything multiplied for thousands of times. 

And besides, if they were going to do it… she knew Jane. Angela had been his first love, his only girlfriend, and after her death, he had been only with… well, the woman she didn’t like to think about. Even after so long, he was still celibate in his widowhood state. He wasn’t libertine or promiscuous in his liaisons, so it made sense, in a crazy and contorted kind of way, that hewanted to avoid the problem altogether by getting married, and having again the stability of a partner at his side.

The tears that had been burned her eyes suddenly escaped, and she started to sob in his arms, her own ones around his neck, keeping as close as possible; Jane deserved a wife, a proper home, and not just an house like his place still was, somewhere where he sometimes eat and slept.

And she could do that. For him. She _wanted to._ She had wanted that with Marcus, but Marcus, like Jane had said, didn’t want her. _Jane_ did. She didn’t want to go through the motion, wondering buts and what ifs until her last day on Earth; she didn’t want to fall in love again, experience love and happiness just to get her heart broken once again. Besides, wasn’t how marriages worked in the old times? And people didn’t get divorced, nor asked for annulments, back then. 

“Teresa?” he whispered in her hear, kissing her lobe. He was manipulating her through her attraction, she knew, but she didn’t care. she had already made up her mind, after all. only, he didn’t know it yet. “Is it such a difficult decision?”

“Yes.” She said.

The breath died in his throat. “Yes, as in, _yes, it’ a difficult decision_ , or yes as in _yes, I’ll marry you?_ ”

She took a big breath, and smiled against the skin of his neck as she turned her face towards him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”


	4. Chapter Four

Few weeks after having formally accepted Jane’s proposal (minus the ring, still missing from the scene), the team worked again with Pike’s unit, and at the end of the case, he invited them to his engagement party, showing that (a) he didn’t have any class, and (b) Teresa truly didn’t know he thought he was. Or maybe it was (c), and Kim was right and Marcus was allowing Francine to do as she wished with their lives- parties included. 

When he turned to face her, with that smile she now knew to be fake, Teresa tried to seem lost in her thought, she pretended to be concentrating on something with all her might. 

“You know, I’m not sure I’ll make it. I think Patrick has something arranged for that night…” She said, half in panic, improvising desperately.

“Uhm, Teresa, I haven’t told you the date yet.” Marcus said, clearing his throat. Hands in his pockets, he was rolling on his heels, biting his lips, and Teresa understood that it was option c, indeed. Marcus didn’t want to ask her there, he was just being polite because he didn’t want to tell Francine that he had been sleeping with Teresa at the same time he did with her (when he probably claimed they were exclusive), and because he didn’t want to look back with his bosses and coworkers. 

“Oh, really?” she said, trying to hide her embarrassment and her little gaffe. God. She hoped that Jane was right and she had, indeed, improved as an actress in the last few years. She didn’t want to give Marcus the satisfaction of knowing that he had broken her heart and that she was still suffering. “Well, I must have heard around it’s Sunday…”

“Saturday evening, actually.” He said, as she castigated herself for not paying more attention to the gossip going around the office. Now he was going to expect her there, because, well, she was supposed to be over him- and to have slept around, too. 

While was still trying to find a way out, trying to bring back to memory the name of people Jane knew he may have mentioned since they moved to Austin, saying that he was planning to visit them and introduce his lovely fiancée, the aforementioned man arrived at her back, and protectively put an hand on her shoulder; but Lisbon felt there was something else too. Apparently, her fiancé was in alpha-male mode, and was marking his territory with her ex. She didn’t know if she was supposed to be flattered (well, two handsome males fighting over her… it was sexy) or annoyed (Jane remembered she had agreed to marry him, right?) by the grip on the skin of her shoulder. Also, it was even a bit painful, and Jane was so taken by his display of male predominance and possession that he wasn’t paying attention to the messages she was trying to send him with her body.

Patrick Jane wasn’t getting an hint: it said everything. 

“Of course we’ll both come, Marcus. I know we are free Saturday.” He said, smiling charmingly, in a way that seemed to say _I’m too sexy and smart and handsome for you to hate me._

“Yeah, I think we’ll manage” Teresa said, feeling trapped. But ehy, at least she wasn’t going to be there alone, and Jane would be a knight in shining armor once again. Because, thinking about it… she _had_ to go. There wasn’t any guarantee that she and Marcus wouldn’t work together again, and she wanted to be polite with him. Also, she didn’t want to let him know how much power he still held over her, how much she still felt for him- despite the fact that she was engaged to another man. Because even if Jane kept talking like it was already in the past, she had discovered the “betrayal” just few weeks before; it was still recent, and the (awkward) invitation had reawakened the hurt. So, when she was alone, in the days and hours before the party she spent a lot of time brooding, trying to remember every word and every action of her ex, trying to see if something had escaped her attention back then, a signal that things weren’t’ for him as they were for her. 

The night of the party, Jane came to her apartment to drive her to the restaurant, and foralmost the whole drive she kept her hands clasped together in her lap, her eyes fixed on them; sometimes along the road, though, Jane stopped the car, and leaned over her seat to take something from the glove compartment. She gasped silently, eyes open wide in shock, when she realized it was a small black velvet box, of the jewelry kind, and suddenly remembered his words from few days before… __

_ “I’ll buy you a ring. Would it make it real enough for you?”  _

Without looking at her, he opened the small box, and once retrieved its content, he threw it in the back of the car, completely carelessly. 

“Give me your hand.” He said, with a voice laced with mirth, and she did as she was asked. Slowly, he slid the white gold band with its shining emerald, cut in the shape of a leaf, on her ring finger. He took her hand in his own as he felt her trembling, and smiling he kissed her hand, just above the ring. Teresa couldn’t take her eyes away from his gift; it was exquisite, simple but not too much, and it wasn’t going to give her problems on the job.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He told her, smiling, letting it go of her hand to get back on the road.

“I’m not, it’s just, you know, nerves.” She said. Nerves for what… she wasn’t sure. Marcus and Francine? The fact that people was going to see and compliment her over her ring? The fact that she was going to marry Jane? It was a question she couldn’t answer herself. 

“Bridal nerves already? Man, I’m in troubles. I’m not so sure I want to marry you, after all…” he joked as he speeded on the road, taking again her hand in his own. Teresa, at his sarcastic and humorous attempt, laughed, showing him off a little- which made him laugh in return. But it was a good thing, because between his laughter in her ear, and his hand in her own, she felt better, and almost forgot where they were going.

When they arrived, she saw that there were already few cars parked outside the venue, and she was glad when, once entered, she saw that Francine and Marcus were entertaining quite the crowd, making it easier to gloss over any meeting with her ex; but, towards the end of the reception, she had excised herself and gone outside to take a bit of hair, feeling flushed by the constant presence of Jane’s hand on her hip. She was enjoying at closed eyes the late night breeze, such a rarity in Austin these days, when she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder- familiar, and yet _wrong._

Marcus. 

She turned to face him, and she felt a cloak of darkness enveloping her; Marcus was looking at her like nothing had happened at all, like they were two people who worked well together and were friends, but nothing more; and yet… yet, he had crashed her, and even if she knew it to be true, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him; not with her whole heart, at least. 

“So… enjoying the party?” he asked, hands in the pockets on his slacks, looking not at her but in the distance, at the park right before them. Lisbon eyed him suspiciously; there’s was something… _odd_ about him. A part of her was relieved, even thrilled, but he, too, was still moved by whatever had been between them. that maybe he felt guilty about what he had done. A dangerous thought crossed her mind, one she hadn’t considered until that very moment: _what if they break up?_

She shivered, feeling guilty and ashamed at the same time, because Jane had been so dear with her, had been through so much, he didn’t deserve to have her thinking such things a month before they got married. 

Marcus turned to face her, looking at her quizzically, with a small smile on his lips, and Teresa understood he was still waiting for an answer. She wanted to laugh- hysterically- at his face, because she couldn’t believe he was even talking with her, let alone chic-chatting and small-talking, after… after everything. 

“Yeah.” She said, hoping that it would be enough to get rid of him. But it wasn’t, and she was herself, Saint Teresa, and even if she was hurt, there were things she couldn’t lie about, had to be honest. “Francine’s nice. You’re lucky.” There was an edge in her voice, that she didn’t feel until the words were out of her mouth. She had been working with Francine in a couple of occasions since Marcus’ new girlfriend had moved to the Austin office, and she could only say good things about her rival: she was good at her work, had heart and the right amount of attitude. It wasn’t her fault if she had fallen- required- for Marcus. 

And it wasn’t her fault if Marcus was a big, fat liar, either. 

Teresa took a big breath, and then, trying to sound as she wasn’t interested at all, she casually dropped a “You know, you could have told me.” But the way she spoke the words, she hoped he understood _we are friends and you can always speak with a friend._ Even if it was a far cry from the truth.

Marcus looked at her quizzically, like he didn’t understand what was her point, but when she refused to say furthermore, his expression changed to annoyed, and he snapped his tongue against his palate. Teresa had touched a sore point, she realized with a bit of pride. But… it didn’t make it any better. 

“Listen, Teresa…” he said, with a tone better suited for a kid, and not the grown-up woman she was. We were just friends… with benefits, but nothing more. And not because of _me.”_

She felt like he was accusing her of something, and the worlds came crushing down on her; he was blaming her, saying that things hadn’t been important between tem, and all because she had preferred the “family” and stability of Austin, instead of a place in Marcus’ team back in Washington. But how could she? Yes, she had been offered the job, but what if things didn’t work out? She wouldn’t have been able to move back there, where her position would have been filled already. She had tried to explain this to him, and he seemed to have understood, even if he had tried, sometimes, to pressure her into accepting the job already. 

“And, anyway, it’s not like you were waiting around for me, right?” he said, chuckling.Anguish and sorrow filled her, because that had been exactly what she had done, but she couldn’t say so: not when engagement was supposed to have happened _prior_ to Marcus’ one. “And as you didn’t tell me you were seeing Jane… there’s no reason for you to be peeved about Francine.” He snickered.

Teresa wanted to scream and shout, wanted to hit him, tell him everything, insult him with every bad word she knew and few others too. Only, she couldn’t. She felt rage filling her whole being, as he accused her of being unreasonable and peeved. Because she wasn’t: she was frustrated, yes, because she couldn’t act as she wanted. She was opening her mouth to reply to his last statement, when she saw a silhouette approaching in the darkness, and even from afar, she immediately recognized Jane. 

“Ehy.” He said once he was at her side. “Sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to tell you they are serving the champagne.” Je looked at her, trying to read her emotions and understand what was going, and his hand never left her side. Teresa leaned in him, her head on his shoulder, and inhaled his scent. _Better,_ she thought, sighing. 

“Do you mind if we call it a night? We had a terrible week, and I want to check a couple of shops tomorrow…”she turned to face Marcus, and smiled as politely as she could. _I’ll be so sweet I’ll kill you,_ she thought. “You don’t mind, right Marcus?”

It took him a while, but then, Marcus said “Nah” and shook her hand and Jane’s one- her hand, just like she was someone he barely knew- and they went back home. For the whole trip, he never touched her, and Teresa guessed he was somehow mad because she had been speaking with her ex; she didn’t see why he was supposed to mind, and she had never thought him to be jealous, not of women, at least.

When they stopped in front of her place, they stood in the car for a short while, both of them expecting the other the break the tension; Teresa looked at Jane, trying, as she had done right from the start, to read him, and like every other time, she failed completely. 

“Can I come over?” he finally asked, tentatively. Teresa only nodded, and when they left the car, she allowed him to guide her inside, with an hand on the small of her back. It didn’t feel sexual, and even if Teresa was well aware of the increasing sexual tension between them, and had always felt some kind of chemistry, she knew that Jane hadn’t asked her in because of sex. He wanted her, and yes, she wanted him too, and as she wasn’t with anyone else (and she was supposed to be his fiancée) it was ok for them to sleep together. But, she felt that desire was far away from his thoughts, and she was proven right when Jane, instead of trying to steal kisses or feeling her up, went to sit on her couch, elbows on his knees, finger crossed at his chin. 

“What were you and Marcus talking about?” he asked, without preambles. His voice wasn’t filled with mirth or sweetness like often when it came to Jane, but by rage and a possessiveness she couldn’t believe he was feeling. 

“Nothing.” She replied after a moment, getting a drink for herself. She didn’t want to answer him, because she didn’t like his tone. Also, the mere idea of thinking back to the rage and pain she had felt, it was breaking her heart in tiny little pieces again and again. Jane, obviously, wasn’t all right with her answer, as he stood and joined her, and took away the glass from her hand, dropping it on the kitchen counter with a soundly _thud_. 

“Don’t lie to me, Lisbon. I saw that you were upset. So I’ll ask again: what were you talking about?”

She decided to give as good as she could, so she looked at him, sternly, in the face, deciding that she wouldn’t feel bad about any of this. “I asked him for an explanation, and he told me why it didn’t occur to him to inform me of his whereabouts with Francine.”

“Was it really cheating?” Jane asked, suddenly, still serious but a little less dark. “I know you said you loved him; but were you sure about _his_ feelings?”

“He used to tell me that he loved me. And I used to think that I would have married him.” She said, shaking her head, with finality. “I guess I was wrong.”

“You should never take for granted a man’s feelings- especially if he only expresses them in the heat of passion.”

Lisbon chuckled. “Oh, really?” she looked at him, and wondered if he was feeling like the hypocrite she thought he was, in that moment. Jane, mostly, wanted to marry her because he wanted her- as in, _her body,_ and she wondered if it didn’t make him just like Marcus. “Do you honestly think we are doing the right thing? Getting married for the right reasons?” she asked, a bit rhetorically. 

Jane looked at her, hard, closed fists. _You don’t know the real reason why I want to marry you,_ he thought, but he didn’t say, as he thought it was too soon to reveal his real feelings to Lisbon. “If you really cared for him,” he started, a breath of air between them. “If you really cared about him, you wouldn’t be made. You would be heartbroken. This is just pride talking, Teresa. Not love. Don’t fool yourself.” 

“Of course I love him! I’0ve loved him for over two years! And yes… I care about him! Do you honestly expect me to forget him just in few weeks?” _You haven’t forgotten your wife in fifteen years,_ she wanted to add, but she left unsaid- he knew what she wanted to say when she bit her lips to avoid going too far. 

“Ok, all right, I guess that I can’t expect you to forget about him so soon, but…” he paused as he paced the room, following Teresa who was doing the same, with her arms crossed. “But few days ago you we all right with the idea of getting married. I mean, I know you and Kim were looking at brochures for our honeymoon… what changed?”

“I was in shock when I agreed.” She simply said, her voice just a whisper in the differently quiet room.

“No” he said, shaking his head. “No, when I told everybody we were engage and you followed me, _that_ was shock. But after I proposed, it took you days, _days,_ Teresa, to give me my answer. So, sorry sweetheart-you were calm and rational when you agreed to be my wife.”

Jane paused again, and lifted her chin with his right hand, forcing Lisbon to look into his eyes. Teresa gulped as she did so, because he was as open, as honest as never before; she could see he felt somehow hurt, but maybe it was just the betrayal of her giving up, taking back her words. She couldn’tsay: there was still too much they hadn’t talked bout. 

“I know you, Teresa.I know you were sure of your decision, but now you are having second thoughts. And if it’s because of something Marcus told you… _don’t,_ please. He was tipsy, and no man should be held guilty because of the things said to you, not when the moonlight enlighten you like some ancient goddess…”

“Jane…” she begged, shaking her head. For what, she didn’t know. 

“Did he kiss you?” he asked, his breath hot on her neck as he bit the tender skin of her lobe, making her gasp, her fingernails leaving angry red marks beneath the cloth of his shirt. 

“No…” she managed to say at least, her voice a low moan. “He… is engaged... to someone else..”

“As do you!” he said with a tone that made sure she knew he owned her, who she belonged to; and to mark his territory, he bit her, hard, in the skin of her shoulder. It wasn’t for others- but only for Teresa to see. And remember. “Or did it slip your mind?” he asked her, chuckling, as she pushed him away with indignation and fire in her eyes. Those emerald green flames that turned him on, drove him as crazy as nothing before. 

“I know.” She said, the words hissed between her teeth; she wasn’t screaming, but, amused, Jane realized it was exactly what she wanted to do. It wasn’t like she was looking for a fight, far from it; she just wanted to show him, she was still in control, that she wasn’t being childish or whatever. “But I’m starting to think it was a mistake!”

Jane’s expression turned grim, but when he was her eyes glassy with unshed tears, hope filled his whole heart once again; his features softened with a smile full of understanding, and offered Teresa his hand, but she refused to run in his arms, shaking her head in a silent no; she knew that, had she accepted, she would have changed her mind, married him on the spot and done whatever he would be asking of her.

But Jane didn’t listen to her; he stalked her, until her petite frame wasn’t clocked between the wall and his body, his arms at each side of her neck; she knew that she could have easily escaped him with her training, but the way he looked at her with his dilated pupils, the way he licked his lips mere millimeters from her mouth, it drove her crazy, unable to think or do anything: she was bewitched, prisoner of his spell. 

“Let’s kiss and make up, Teresa…” he ordered her as he nuzzled her face, his breathing hot on her skin as he kissed and bit tenderly her neck. 

“But… we have to talk…” Teresa protested, barely. Her words were stopped every now and then by moans and pleasure, and she felt Jane grin against her neck, felt his chuckles reverberate all the way from her skin to her throbbing core. 

“Later.” He said, and afterwards, his mouth closed over hers, and in moments she opened his lips to him, her tongue battling with his own as he seductively persuaded her to follow him. When he stopped kissing her, he didn’t let it go of Teresa, but allowed, and maybe forced, her to bury her face in his shoulder, his hands running up and down her back. He chuckled again, and then said, “Well, we can’t be wrong about _this,_ right?”

“Someone once told me to avoid listening to what men say in moments of passion. Besides, I know I’m not exactly an expert on the topic, but I think there may be more than sex and heated kisses in a marriage.” Teresasaid with a smile on her lips, trying to make a bit of fun of the whole deal, as she parted from him with her head, and looked at him, her hands caressing his chest. “Seriously, though, we’ll get married in less than a month. I don’t understand why we can’t wait just a little while…”

He rolled his eyes, and made an “Uhm” guttural sound, like a growl. “And, this little while, how long is it, exactly?”

“Until I’m sure we are doing the right thing, Jane.” She said, exasperated as she moved away from him and crossed her arms. But Jane shook his head, hands on his hips. 

“Last week- heck, yesterday- you were sure. Now, you’re not. You could be sure and unsure again. This could go on and on for years…”

“Of course not! I’m just asking you few months! At least until I’ll not know the date of M…” but she bit her lips, panicking as he almost run into her, eyes filled with rage. It wasn’t because she was hesitant about marrying him- it was the reason, the man responsible. Jane would have probably accepted fear, nerves, whatever. But this- probably also considering how she had ended things with the man in question- absolutely not. 

“What? You don’t know what, Teresa? You don’t know the date of Marcus’ wedding?! For God’s sake, Teresa, grown up! You can’t have your cake and eat it too! If you really don’t want to marry me until there’s a slim chance that Marcus may be free again, then let’s break up here and now. I’m not going to stay here and wait for you to choose me as second best once Marcus will be out of reach once and for all! Who do you think I am?!”

As he said the words, she wondered how he could still be putting up with her, when she sounded like a monster; after all, it was more or less what a small, stupid part of her brain had been thinking about; owning to her thought, what she wanted, made her feel ashamed. “I’m sorry.” She breathed. But Jane didn’t answer; he just stared at her, hands still on his sides. 

“well? Now what? Do we call it off, or do we go on with the wedding?” she didn’t answer, and, tired, he run an hand on his face, through his curls. “No more games, Teresa. I need you take a decision, and I warn you: this is your last chance. If you decided to marry me, we get married as we had planned. But if you back out now, don’t expect me to be around waiting for you after Marcus marries Francine. It’s either a genuine commitment or a final and clean break.”

She gulped, understanding that what he was giving her was an ultimatum. She guessed he wasn’t so wrong, after all. It was better if he knew there and then, instead of living with uncertainty, despite the lack of romantic love between them. 

And in that moment, she knew. 

She couldn’t lose his friendship, because they had gone too far to return to the old days, the easy banter and the childish arguments. A final and clean break, he said, and yet they would see each other every day: she had refused a work in DC once already because she loved Austin too much, and he had still few years before being granted pardon after Red John’s murder and the felonies committed after and before reaching his goal. This would always be between them, a barrier impossible to cross. It would destroy and hurt her: more than losing Marcus did. 

She would lose them both, she understood. Marcus wasn’t going to break up with Francine, and he… he wasn’t there. But Jane, on the other hand, Jane was there. He was much more important, his loss would matter more than anything to her. As much as she looked for a way out, there wasn’t any.

“I’ll marry you in a month, as planned.” She said, looking for his eyes, her voice uneven.

“Are you sure?” he asked, finally looking at her. She simply nodded, not trusting her own voice gain. “Good. Then.. I’ll guess it’s time for me to go back home.” And without adding anything, he left. He didn’t take her in his arms, didn’t kiss her goodnight. He just left, making her feel like a disgraced child. 

She took a big breath as she closed the door once she saw he had left the spot in front of her apartment, and rested her head against the wood, sighing; there was no breaking her promise to him this time. Because she knew that Jane would find a way to make sure did as she had said- or punish her if she decided to take her word back.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Teresa's attire](http://www.polyvore.com/teresas_wedding_attire_complete/set?id=118658242)   
>  [Grace and Kim's attire](http://www.polyvore.com/van_pelt_fisher_lie_close/set?id=118657306)   
>  [Jane's attire](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=118732958&.locale=it)

 

They had decided that, given the rushed nature of the wedding, a civil ceremony would have suited them both better; Teresa, rationally, considered it a practical choice, but she wondered if she didn’t feel guilty about the idea about marrying Jane in front of God; after all, wasn’t she and her soon-to-be husband supposed to be _in love_ to be married in front of God? But Jane didn’t love her as a man was supposed his wife, and she…

She didn’t know what to do about herself. On one side, as the date approached, her feelings for Marcus diminished; she wasn’t sure if she was following out of love with him or what, but as they had met in the hallway a couple of times after the party, she felt, somehow, better; her heart still jumped, but it was a conditioned reflex born out of habit; it seemed so long before she had cried herself to sleep before of heartache, and now she felt herself… void of emotions for him. She didn’t want his happiness, nor she hoped he would be dumped or whatever. She felt nothing for him, and Teresa asked herself if Jane hadn’t been right, if it hadn’t been just in her head. 

How could she had fallen for another man so soon afterwards, after all? Even if she guessed it wasn’t exactly like that. Falling for Jane was something that had happened a long time before, when it just didn’t make sense, when he wasn’t the right choice, nor available; she had talked herself out of it so many times she had lost count, just to fall back under his spell with a word, a touch or an action. 

Smiling as she looked at herself in the mirror, she thought back to the old days; she had loved him when he had first gone to her, at the CBI, desiring to save him from himself, and had fallen a little bit more in love with him when he had suggested dinner in the Napa Valley ( _“I’d never seduce you over a meal, it would be sophomoric.”)_ ; she had first given up on him as the master of her heart when he had told her what he was planning for Red John, but then, he had gone and went undercover with Grace, with the redhead posing as his girlfriend, and the burning jealousy she had felt told her she wasn’t as past as she had hoped; then, he had told her he didn’t care about anything if it meant Red John was dead, and she had lectured him about it. 

Of course, not even ten minutes later he went and killed his first and, at the time, only link to the killer to save her life. So, guess what? She fell back in love with him as more as never before. 

It should have helped them sort out their feelings, she thought, and Teresa often wondered if she should have said something. But back then, Jane would have never listened to her. Besides, after that they kept going hot and cold, between his dates with Miss Frey and how he kept secrets and pushed them (her) away to protect her from Red John. Sometimes she wanted to scream, sometimes she wanted to kiss him, other to _kill_ him, and that was only the start; they had worked together for so long, many years shared with mixed feelings, that she felt she was messed up by what she felt.

By his, then dismissed and denied and forgotten, declaration of love. By the way he told her she was sweet before leaving for six months. By the discovery that he had had sex with Lorelai Martins. By how he practically talked her into having sex with Mashburn. By his words before leaving, left on her phone. By his “you mean more to me than you could ever imagine”. By being the first thing he wanted and needed to agree to be back on the US. 

And yet... yet, once back, they didn’t return to what they used to be. Part of her had wanted, believed that things would progress. That everything he had done and said to show her how much he cared about her in the years meant that he, too, felt the same, and the only reason he hadn’t acted on those feelings before was because he _couldn’t,_ and not because he didn’t want. But things, once in Austin, hadn’t processed; Jane hadn’t moved on, and even if now she was happier than she had ever been, after playing his arm candy she realized that he wasn’t there. Maybe it was a matter of time, but what if it wasn’t? She didn’t know if it was worth the risk, waiting for him. So, it hadn’t been that hard taking her decision: fearing that the outcome would be of solitude and Jane may never try anything (“ _What’s between us it’s platonic”_ he had once said), she had looked around. 

And Marcus was there. Marcus was there where Jane wasn’t. So, really, was there really any choice at all?

But now the roles were reversed; it wasn’t just that Marcus wasn’t there any longer; it was that she understood that her decision had been based on convenience. If Marcus hadn’t asked her out for pancakes that evening, she would have never been the one to ask him out. If he had swept her off feet with the clear promise of sex with no strings, she would have agreed, because he would have been just like all the other men who had come and gone after she and Jane crossed paths. None of them had stayed: only Jane, and it was time she accepted that he was just taking the rightful place he had always had in her heart. Only, now he was doing it in real life, too. Jane was going to be her husband for real; but did it really matter? After all, how many times had people asked her how long had they been married? If they had a relationship? She had lost count: _it had to be a sign,_ she thought as she took a big breath and smiled at her reflex in the mirror. After all, in a couple of our, she was going to get married to Jane, and she didn’t want to have wedding nerves. Grace and Tommy were panicking enough for the all of them. only Annie (and Cho, obviously) were strangely calm. Her nice was even too cheerful, something that worried Lisbon a little (because it screamed Jane), but apparently, she had just won a lot of money- something about having seen the signs already the first time they all met up; because who else would offer a teenager a complete spa experience, if not her uncle-to-be?

“Ok, so… are we ready?” Tommy asked as he entered in her bedroom, clapping his hands. Even from afar, Teresa could see that, despite his apparent composure in the dark blue suit, he was sweating, and the sight made her turn into a real girl from once: it was so… sweet, seeing her little brother being so moved by the fact that his sister was getting married, it was melting her whole heart. 

Teresa wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t, scared to ruin or undo the delicate and intricate Grecian hairstyle, the dark locks knotted by flower-shaped pins filled with light blue strass. “Tommy, we are just ten minutes top from City Hall, and we still have over half an hour before the ceremony.” She reached her brother, and blew him a kiss in the air, at his cheek’s level; she wasn’t an expert in waterproof and kiss-proof lipsticks, so who knew if itwas really going to stay as perfect as when Grace had helped her putting it?

Grace, in that moment, entered, dressed with a nice cocktail dress in blue; Kim was there as well, dressed too with a simple dress, as violet as the purest amethyst. Both women were going to be bridesmaids (Annie had begged her not to- too girly-girl for her own taste) and Kim had showed what a great friend she could be. She had sense of humor but was practical, and seemed to be able to calm people down. Grace, all excited about the wedding – more than the bride and groom- had kept entering in the room, looking around asking if they had everything, if something was wrong and if Lisbon wanted something for her nerves…

“Ehy, you are beautiful, Teresa. I hope Jane knows how lucky he is.” Lisbon didn’t say anything at Kim’s compliment, she just blushed. She didn’t know what Jane thought or if he was lucky; she just hoped her friend was right and wasn’t lying through her teeth. 

The truth was, Teresa had been kind of… well, it was hard to explain, but in short, she hadn’t known how to tackle the whole wedding dress thing. At first, she had told Jane that, as she had never thought about her wedding, she didn’t think she could go with the whole white thing. She had said that she wanted something simpler, more practical, that maybe she could, someday, re-use (hence, why her bridesmaids were dressed just as they liked); but, when she had gone looking for her dress ( _knee length, colored, with a jacket, and sensible shoes_ ), after she had gone through five shops without finding anything that she liked, well, in the last shop, while the saleswoman had gone looking for an item she thought could suite Lisbon, her eyes had fallen upon a certain item of clothing, and it had been love at first sight. 

With a wedding dress. 

It was white- despite the fact that she had always said “ _if I’ll ever get married, I’ll never wear white_ ”, but as soon as she had seen it, she knew that having it was imperative. She had been glad when she had tried it on, discovering that it fitted her perfectly. Also, despite being both being a wedding dress and white, it still was perfect for a civil ceremony: it was in soft and cascading shining fabric, with a heart décolletage, with the V-neck and the ¾ sleeves made of old lace; the tulle skirt was both classic and yet modern, making her feel like a real bride (well…), but the shoes (because she was a shoes fetish and she loved her shoes like almost the whole feminine population of the world) were very modern: extremely high white stiletto heels, worked in the front and in the back in a lace motive of heart and swirls in lasered suede. They had costed her a fortune, over 1.000 dollars, and she already knew that by the end of the days she would swore revenge on them promise to never, ever wear them again nor buy something like that, but she loved them, and she felt that Jane, as attracted as he was to her, would have appreciated her parading in her wedding lingerie and her heels for a long time to come… 

She smiled, back to reality, and breathed in and out as she took hold of Tommy’s hand; Kim and Grace followed them outside and closed the apartment (for a long time to come) while her brother helped her into the car; she had hoped to get one of Jane’s vintage cars for the drive and the honeymoon, but Abbott had explained that until Jane wasn’t due with his “sentence” his assets would still be frozen and untouchable. At the end, her fiancé had asked to one of his “poker-friends” to lean him a bright red, brand500 convertible, and it was in that car- arranged with few white ribbons and some flowers - that she and Tommy drove to City Hall. 

They had arrived there just in time- hey, she loved being on time, and it was her wedding day, after all, no need to allow Jane to talk himself out of getting married – and despite the fact that it was a simple ceremony and just few people were there (their coworkers, their old coworkers, Tommy and Annie), her bridesmaids and her family still entered before her; Teresa was the last one to walk into the room, at Tommy’s arm. 

And Jane was already there, waiting for her, giving her his back; she slowly walked towards him, but when she was almost there he turned, and smiled at her. His eyes were wide, his smile sincere, and smiled in kind, blushing under the thin blusher. And it wasn’t just his smile. He looked very handsome: he was wearing new clothes, light grey with a light blue tie, black shiny shoes and his hair was worked to perfection. Jane tried to say something- she thought it was “hey” but she couldn’t be sure because she was dreamy- but she didn’t even try to hold a conversation with him; yes, it wasn’t nor the place or the time (even if Judge Willis was a friend from her poker nights and had a great sense of humor), but also she couldn’t; her mind was somewhere else altogether.

So much that she missed Jane’s vows- not that there was a lot to miss, as they had chosen standard vows – and almost ( _almost)_ missed her own ones. 

“Teresa?” Willis asked, looking at her with a lifted eyebrows; at her side, Jane was laughing (just like Tommy), while Grace was almost scandalized. “Do you want me to repeat my question?”

She nodded, blushing, and smiling and almost laughing, Willis repeated the question. “Teresa, do you take Patrick to be your husband?”

She nodded under her veil. “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all other and holding only unto him?”

“I do” she repeated, the breath dying in her throat. God, it was happening. She couldn’t believe it. 

They got the point of the ceremony when they exchanged their rings, and to Teresa’s dismay, again Jane choose the classical formula; she had guessed he would have done so, as this marriage was based more on affection than romantic love, but she had still hoped that he would have surprised her with a spur of the moment thing. But he hadn’t: simply, when he put the ring on her finger he smiled, and kissed her hand, and Teresa’s heart clenched, both with happiness and a hint of something she couldn’t identify: regret, jealousy? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop thinking about Jane’s wedding with Angela, wondering about how he had acted, what he had said, how she had been dressed…

Before she knew it, the ceremony was over, and Tommy was again reaching out for his sister, lifting the blusher like in al old movie, when the bride was presented to her groom for the first time. She smiled, and he answered in kind, with a Cheshire cat grin; when he knew she wasn’t waiting for it, he bent quickly, and kissed her lightly as she threw her arms around his neck and answered to his kiss with a little bit more of passion, without, though, letting things get too steamy. 

Afterwards, they had a small party at Jane’s place- where they had decided they would be moving in once the week-long honeymoon was over- preferring a catered meal over restaurant since it was just the few of them; Tommy and Annie had already promised to clean the following day, as they had the keys and were helping Teresa moving. 

It was a small affair, with people talking about their past at the CBI and hoe they had seen it coming (Grace and Wayne), the present at the FBI and how they had always knew there was much more than it met the eyes with those two (Abbott and Fisher), a complementation from Cho, and Tommy and Annie’s tales of what Teresa used to say when she called them with tales of Jane and how she wanted to inflict bodily harm to her consultant. 

“Ehy, do you want to leave?” Jane asked around five o’clock, eyeing her dress. He looked at her quizzically, as to say, _Do you want to get changed before leaving?_

Knowing what he meant, she shook her head; the dress was sensible, and the heels, yes, they were killing her feet, but she could always leave them once in the car. Jane sent a text to Rigsby, who vanished for a short while, appearing after a couple of minutes giving Jane the keys of the car- Wayne wasn’t the most serious person they knew, but he was scared enough of Jane, and respected Teresa enough, to not mess with the car. 

“OK, PEOPLE, WE ARE LEAVING!” Jane screamed, with laughter in his voice, as he took Teresa for her hand, and practically dragged her out; the few guests immediately dropped what they were doing to throw white confetti at the couple, and Lisbon had merely the time to launch her bouquet of white roses, tulips and freesia at Kim, who put it together with her smaller one; both Teresa and her fresh husband were quite happy when the FBI agent didn’t blush, but smiled brightly and shook her head, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers, while Cho, at her side, looked at Jane like he wanted to kill him: the Korean had admitted few weeks before, after too many beers, that he didn’t mind his co-worker, and apparently the mentalist now was hard at work, trying to get him to tie the knot, too.

“Put your belt on.” Jane told Lisbon as he speed in the street; Teresa was already in the process of doing so, but Jane had been quicker in maneuvering the car, so that, despite knowing _how_ he drove and despite his words, she was thrown against him. 

“Watch it, _driver.”_ She told him hissing, glaring at him; but her expression didn’t scare him- and made him, instead, laugh. And like often, Teresa felt herself compelled to join him. 

He tsk-tsked her, smiling as soon as he was back in control of himself. “Watch it, wife. You don’t want me to go all caveman on you!” he watched at her like a pirate in old and b-movies did, and she laughed again, deciding to join in the fun answer in kind to his provocations. After all, they both knew they were just that: words. Lisbon was more than able to kick his ass- physically- and even if she wasn’t, Jane suspected that those murderous, delicious and sexy as hell heels she had thrown in the back of the car could easily qualify as white weapons. 

“Oh, poor me! and to say people had warned me that you secretly were a chauvinist pig! What will I do now?”

“Eh, Reese…” he told her, sighing like he was sorry and something terrible had truly happen, her nickname escaping his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world, warming her heart up with joy and a sense of belonging she had never felt before. “I fear you’ll not escape me any longer, now…”

She knew his statement was a theatric, but it was true. she knew now it was forever, that there was no going back. She belonged to Jane- calling him Patrick still felt weird -, and Jane belonged to her. She couldn’t speak for him, but she was sure that now she had made the right choose, and that if he wanted her, she was going to stay at his side forever, or at least as long as he was going to want her. 

They drove in comfortable silence for over half an hour, and if Jane was faithful to his words and was careful with the road (and the manual shifting gear), Teresa took her time looking at him, and sometimes drawing lazy pattern on his slacks. She smiled every time she saw his gulping at her touch, glad that she had an effect on him, that she was seeing the evidence that it was real. And that he was, finally, after so many years, hers. She asked again how could she had fooled herself into believing that Marcus could be the one; loving someone for so long, even if she and Marcus had gotten married, she now knew that Jane’s shadow would have always been there. Her marriage would have probably been deteriorated, but she would have tried to keep appearances up, trying to make it works because she was a good Catholic girl who wanted her happily ever after. Or maybe they would have drifted apart, and she would have returned to Austin, moping after Jane and things that hadn’t been. But not now. Now, she had the real deal. 

Their destination was a small cottage on lake Travis, only half an hour from Austin; Lisbon wasn’t sure how Jane had obtained the beautiful, European-style construction, but he didn’t believe not even for a second that the place was rented; it wasn’t like she didn’t think people couldn’t change their habits, she knew his colors, and just like the car had been “won” at poker, she was sure that a deck of card was responsible for the temporary ownership of the small building with a private seaside. 

Her husband (she giggled every time she thought of him as such) took their suitcases in the building, and then come back to her; Teresa was still sitting in the car, her feet dangling outside, the heels back in place, his eyes mesmerized by the sight. He offered her his hand, but Teresa simply stood, and entered, knowing that his eyes were glued to her, to every single step she took, to the way she moved. 

“And here I thought you were all about tradition and wanted for me to carry you inside…” he sighed, in a mocked tone, as she left herself fall on the couch; even those few steps had hurt her feet, and sighing in pleasure at closed eyes, she got rid of the heels, throwing them against the wall in the farthest corner. 

“Please.” She said rolling her eyes. “Even you are not such a caveman. Besides, you are an old man, Jane. I’m just being careful with your back. Besides, wouldn’t it be terrible? A fresh bride, having to look after her injured husband on their honeymoon… thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh, really’” he said, smiling, launching himself at Teresa; but she was a cop, an FBI agent and had been e runner when younger, so, as soon as she read her intentions, she started to run first, from room to room, like they were children, like they were character from a silly cartoon, until they didn’t land on the bed, all iron and silk and romance and sex. 

He stopped to laugh, nuzzling her neck, and kissed her, once, twice, three times, the passion increasing with every touch of his lips, of their tongues. He run his fingers in her hair, and then groaned, parting from her. Lisbon sat up, and looked at her, with a mix of horror and rage and fear, all mixed together. They hadn’t been intimate yet: was he scared now? Did he feel guilty? Didn’t he want her any longer?

“Your hairdo is… inhibiting me.” he admitted. Teresa shook her head, and laughed, and without saying anything, she went to sit on the small vanity, her back to him. She was in the process of taking off the first of many pins, when he put his hands on her shoulders, making her shiver. He massaged her sore muscles, and she enjoyed the contract, leaning in his touch.

“Allow me.” He asked with a rough voice, and she simply nodded, unable to resist him. He undid the knots, and freed her hair that fell in soft waves on her shoulders, just how he had always liked them; he contemplated taking abrush and to that for her too, one hundred time, like that old wife’s tale, working them to shiny perfection, but decided not to: this was her. like he had always wanted her. Like he had always desired her. 

He made her stood up, and without adding a word, he took her hand in his own ones, and walked backwards toward the bed, discharging his shoes on the way; he felt Lisbon tremble, out of fear, expectation, nerves or what, he couldn’t say, but when he laid down and took her in his arms, her arms around his neck, her fingers running into his curls, he shushed her. She looked at her quizzically, and he kissed her hair, tenderly and protective, with the sweetest gesture anyone had ever done for her. 

“Rest, Reese, you are tired. It’s been a few emotional days.”

“But…” she said, a sneaky finger running on his chest, torturing his skin through the first few opened buttons, but he stopped her, shaking his head. 

“I’ve wanted you for a long time. It’s not going to hurt me to wait a day or two more. What you need is a decent rest, and that’s what you are going to have. Now stop worrying, you’re hurting my brain.”

He held her until she didn’t feel asleep, and it didn’t take long- for the both of them. for the first time in years. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Teresa and Patrick's honeymoon attire](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=118734451&.locale=it)

When Teresa woke up, the sun was already up in the sky; from the light shining into the room through the big windows she guessed it could be late. She didn’t know how she was supposedto feel about it: first, she didn’t like waking up late, as it was so out of character for her, and she hated that she was starting her married life in such a way; **_BUT_** she was glad that Jane (because yes, he was still Jane to her) hadn’t interrupted her beauty sleep. Yes, in the days previously to their marriage her doubts had evaporated, but it didn’t mean she had been relaxed, because it was far from it. 

Of course, she thought sighing, if Jane had woken her up as a preliminary she wouldn’t have minded that much, but the previous day he had been such a knight in shining armor to put her needs (aka resting) before his own ones (aka his heavy, hard desire for her). Part of her had hoped to start the morning with either lazy morning sex or a good, old fashioned hard fuck (She was a woman- not a dead body), but Jane was nowhere to be found. Huffing, she fell on his side of the bed, feeling still his warmth and inhaling his lingering scent, Aqua di Parma Cologne.

There was something… heartbreaking about Jane wearing that perfume, as she had been the one to give it to him many years before, desperately trying to conceal a bit his homeless look. She still remembered that time; when she had given him the perfume, she had done so because she cared and wanted to fix him, but of course, she hadn’t been brave enough to say so (even if she guessed Jane had always known.); she had preferred to conceal her real intentions, trying to appear rude and bored with him and his “attire”- kind of like giving scented shower gel to someone who stank.

But it had never been her case, because she had been fool enough to fall for him, again and again and again, and now, here she was, on the first day of her married life feeling already like one of those housewives from those old movies, women who seemed happy on the outside, that the world believed to have everything- and yet, the truth was another one: as much as she had wanted this marriage, part of her felt trapped in a love-less relationship, and was scared for her - _their–_ future.

She was in love with Jane, and the idea of finally being together this way filled her heart with joy; but to scare her was the knowledge that he didn’t feel the same; Jane loved her like a little sister, probably in the same way he loved Van Pelt; only, he wanted to have sex with her, too. But she knew it didn’t have to mean anything; maybe she hadn’t had “the talk” with her mother, but blessed Aunt Ruthie when she told her that men and women were very different when it came to the way they viewed sex; her aunt used to say that, despite what they said, women always left a small part of their heart when they slept with a man, didn’t matter if it was just a fling, sex for the purpose of fun or a more serious relationship; women always put their hearts (and reputations) on the line.

Men, Aunt Ruthie said, were another pair of hands. It wasn’t just because men couldn’t fake their pleasure or always reached… ehm… _completion_ when aroused. According to her, men could be “careless” even when the sex was even just fun, reaching completion and then, without thinking if the lady had, too, they turned on their side and fell asleep like nothing had happened at all. And that was when they didn’t leave or asked for the girl to go out already. 

Of course, both Ruthie and Teresa knew that there were good men, too, but the older woman always told Teresa to not believe what a man said during sex or when he really wanted to get into her panties; sometimes they didn’t even do that on purpose, it was just that sex was a physical, biological imperative for them, no emotions involved. _That, Reese, is why men have sex, and don’t make love-usually._

Lisbon sighed. She hated to know that her aunt was right, and that Jane was the poster boy for that statement, with his continuous flirting and his passionate encounter(s?) with one Miss Lorelai Martins to get to Red John. 

“Reese? You awake?” she heard his voice like in the distance, and when she turned in direction of the door, he entered in the room; he hadn’t shaved yet (and she hoped he wouldn’t- a three days beard was the sexiest thing she could imagine on any man.) and he was dripping water on the pavement; he was barefoot, a blue towel around his slim hips and with another one, in samest shade, he was tamponing his curls. 

Teresa didn’t answer. She couldn’t: her mouth open in a silent “O”, she shamelessly stared at Patrick Jane with close to nothing. Patrick Jane, the man who had worn old three piece suits for over a decade. Patrick Jane, the man who now had at least shirt and jacket always on to cover his upper body. Patrick Jane, the man she had seen shirtless just once in almost fifteen years, when paramedics were resuscitating him. 

And now, the same Patrick Jane was standing at the feet of her- _their –_ bed in close to nothing, tanned and slim and muscular in a way she couldn’t believe possible, given his naps. Because he was _her husband._

God. How much she wanted him. 

“Ehm… a swim before breakfast, Lisbon?” he said, gulping, his Adam apple visibly beating against the skin of his neck, his eyes huge in shock like he was a scared animal. Teresa looked at him with huge eyes, darkened by desire, intrigued by his reaction. He was calling her Lisbon, and it was good. It meant he was scared of her, of how much he wanted her and to consummate their marriage. 

She purred her next words to him. “Why don’t you come here, instead?” she leaned back, looking like a sexy goddess. Her dark hair were in stark contrast with the pale red of the bed sheets, and she moved like she was sex personified, her hands going to the hem of her wedding dress and lifting it sensually until from his position Jane could see a hint of white lace between her legs. Teresa closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure, already foretasting things to come, but when she opened her eyes and turned to look at her side, sure to find Jane standing close to the bed, so close that he could have touched her… she found nothing, if not one of the towels on the floor. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she thought as she stood up and went in the bathroom, ready to change into her swim attire. She wasn’t doing it because Jane had told her so: simply, she was filled with hormones and energy and other… stuff, and had to burn everything in some way. Normally, she would have gone to the firing range, but (a) she didn’t know one nearby, and (b)she didn’t have her gun. She couldn’t even go to run, because Jane had told her from the start that they were going to the lake for their honeymoon, and she had decided to fill her case with sexy lingerie (which didn’t seem to be very useful) and bikinis. So, really, it wasn’t like she had a choice on the matter. 

Teresa got ready in few minutes, choosing a flowered bikini in the nuances of pink and light blue, and took another towel; she looked at the things she had taken for the honeymoon, and quickly decided on a pair of flip-flops and a brown pareo with cream-colored Middle-Eastern decorations, and her sunglasses and the hat that Jane had brought for her. Technically, she didn’t need anything like that- the seaside was just a few meters from them- but she wasn’t sure if, once seen Jane, she would have stood there with him. 

Still mad with him because he had refused her, Lisbon walked out of the building, without bothering with closing the front door; that he saw it: she didn’t care- besides, maybe he would get the message loud and clear, that she was pissed off with him. But then, after a few steps, she saw him in the distance, sitting on the shores, the calm waves lapping at his feet. Elbows on his knees, hands crossed under his chin, eyes hidden by sunglasses, he seemed lost in his thoughts. Like many other times, he was a man at battle, and Teresa immediately berated herself for her behavior, her eyes glistening with unshed tears;the night before, Jane had wanted her, but he had been kind and considerate enough to give her that much-needed rest; that morning, she hadn’t thought about what he could feel, in what state he could be, she had practically jumped him there and then, and when he had run away, she had been mad. 

She felt a little guilty, a little less mad with him because of the (lack of) sex, but she still saw red- maybe Jane didn’t really consider her his wife as he wasn’t crazy in love with her, but they had been friends for a long time. He knew her. She knew him. And she had honestly thought they were long past the keeping secrets, avoiding talking about things, stage.For God’s sake- how came he had candidly confessed her his plans for Red John like he was talking about the weather, but he couldn’t explain her why he didn’t feel like having sex with her?

Unless…

She and almost face-palmed herself as she went to seat at his side, mimicking his position; there was only one reason why Jane wasn’t sharing with her what was troubling him; it had to be that thing he never talked about, he had always avoided sharing: his family- his _real_ family, Angela and Charlotte. Something about them was giving him thoughts, had made impossible for him to join her in their bed. A memory, maybe?

She was opening her mouth, but then she realized that she didn’t know what she was supposed to say, nor if she could discuss with him such a delicate topic. Her eyes went to the water, and dropping her stuff, without saying anything, she jumped in, head first, and swam, and swam and swam, until her lungs weren’t burning. Only then, when she was finally far from the shore, she allowed herself to cry and sob. She had been an idiot. Had she really thought that marriage would have been easy with him because he had been an husband, once?

Jane wasn’t simply an husband- Jane was a _widower,_ widower to a woman who had been taken away from him with brute force, in a bloodbath that had destroyed his whole world. Jane had been Angela’s husband, he had kept being that for over ten years after her passing, and in some way, he still was. Angela was always going to be the first wife, the third wheel in their relationship that they would, and could, never talk about.Everything was going to be new for Teresa, every experience in married life, but Jane would always remember that he and Angela had once shared the same things. Teresa shortly wondered if it wasn’t why he had arranged the wedding on his own; maybe Angela had been the one to prepare their wedding, maybe he was scared that Teresa would have done something that would awake painful memories, or…

She didn’t know. And she never would, because how could she ask him?

“Reese!” she heard calling, and when she turned, Jane was swimming in her direction. She quickly composed herself, and when he reached her, he took her in his arms, holding her like for dear life. Teresa embraced him, her hands running in his wet curls, and looked at Jane, _really_ looking at him, trying to find an answer to her silent question; when he had called her, she had recognized the tone, and now she was seeing his eyes. Just a look, and she was well into the past, when they were back at the CBI; she remembered that hunted look, how could she not? It was how he looked at her when he was scared, when there was a chance she wasn’t getting out of it alive, like when Tanner was going to kill her, or when one of Red John’s minions had put a bomb on her body, or like when Red John had ambushed her, drawing a bloody smile on her face…

That wasn’t just the expression of a man who kept people around for when he would eventually need them. He was a lost man, a man defeated by life and scared of being defeated again. How could she think he didn’t love her? Of course he couldn’t love her as he did Angela- she was his first love, the woman he had had a child with, the reason he was the man he was, standing right before her. Yes, he didn’t love her as he did Angela- just in his own way, differently. 

She smiled of a little smile, meant to reassure him, and gave him a peck on the lips, to reassure herself this time, that he was there and that he cared and loved her. .

“You scared me, Reese. Don’t ever do that again. Never.” He said, their legs touching under the water, his grip on her desperate and full of everything that he was, everything that he wanted to say but he couldn’t yet. “Let’s get back to the shore, all right?” 

She nodded, and when they parted, he moved first, and she followed; when they reached the hot sand, they stood on the same towel, both on their sides, looking at each other; Teresa was in fetal position, while Jane drew imaginary pattern all over her sensible skin with a single fingertip, leaving goose bumps wherever he touched. 

“Cold?” he asked, his breath hot and exhilarating as he spoke in her ear, his voice husky and full of sinful promises. _This is it,_ Teresa though, _we are going to be together._

She shook her head in a silent no, smiling, her expression malicious and sly, and she was about to say something that could make her look like she was a very sexual woman, when she gasped. Suddenly, a very smiling and laughing Jane was on top of her, tickling her as he used her towel to dry her all over. He leaned over her, and conquered her lips in a fiery kiss, as he moved to dry her core too, the cloth running over her bikini-covered sensible skin, igniting passion like nobody ever did before him. Teresa felt soon herself moaning and gasping in the kiss as Jane moved his hand expertly over her, knowing how to stimulate her without being too openly sexual. But she couldn’t help but think that it was the sexiest thing she had ever felt, ever done, and soon she felt her inner walls contracting on their own accord. She left bright red half-mooned indentations on the skin of his back, and she bit hard on his lips, getting blood. Jane was moaning too, she could feel his breathing and heartbeat changing, and the heavy, hard weight of his desire against her leg as he dry-humped her without meaning to. 

“Jane…” he sighed as her hand went to his shorts and she grasped his erection through the thin material. She rubbed him, and giggled like she had never felt more free before, but just when she was starting to enjoy getting to get close and personal with “Little Jane”, her former consultant sighed painfully. 

Anger filled her whole self as she recognized that Jane was again pushing her away, that again he was refusing and rejecting her; Teresa pushed him away, making him roll on the boiling sand, and stormed back in, running into their bedroom, without checking where he was or what he was doing. She was furious: why had he to be hot and cold? Why couldn’t he made up his mind? Before getting married, he kept saying that he wanted her, and now, one second he was all worried and touchy-feely, and the next one he run away like a scared animal, like the mere idea of having sex with her was painful. She really, really wanted to be sympathetic, but his mixed signals were driving her crazy.

Falling on her stomach on the bed, she buried her face in the pillows, willing herself to not cry but failing miserably; she didn’t want for Jane to hear her sob, so she bit the soft fabric hoping that it would suffocate the agonizing sounds that were escaping her throat, sounds she found alien and that she couldn’t quite believe were coming from her. 

_ Good Lord. The men in my life have really made a number on me _ , she thought. She stood there, in the same position, for a long while, she wasn’t sure how much; then, a part of her brain registered a sound coming from the door and movement, but she was still too clouded by the onslaught of emotions to bring herself to care or react; it was like she was there, and yet she wasn’t, a witness looking from above at the scene unfolding before her own eyes.

“Teresa?” Jane called her with a soft voice, more or less a whisper; only after he had spoken she registered he was at her side, and when she didn’t gave him any sign that she had heard him, he went to sit on the bed at her side, tenderly caressing her wet hair while she kept giving him her back. She considered throwing him a pillow, or something heavier, she even wondered if he had gotten used by being punched by her and knew her tells, but when she understood that Jane wasn’t going to leave, that he was ready to stay there, caressing her in silence for days if he had to, she huffed and turned on her side, facing him. 

“What do you want, Jane?” she asked, letting her voice show how much annoyed she was with him. And yet, she was crazy enough to still hum in pleasure in his mere presence, the breath dying in her throat when her eyes found themselves on level with his naked chest. 

“Picnic in bed?” He suggested, smiling lazily, and taking a basket from the floor. Teresa did her best to avoid smiling or laughing, but she couldn’t. Jane was unique, and yet, _that_ was what was driving her crazy. Why couldn’t he be like that the whole time? “It was getting late, and I thought about offering you a decadent meal in bed.” 

Teresa sighed, but when she saw fries and an hamburger emerging from the old-fashioned basket, she sat up and took his offering; maybe they weren’t ready to make peace yet- if there was any peace to make at all- but she would be civil, if not only because she was getting hungry. 

“What time is it?” she asked, as she moaned around a piece of meat in her mouth. She didn’t know where he had found the food, didn’t care how and if he had made it, but it was delicious, and it was doing sinful things to her taste buds. Maybe it was the hunger talking, but she was almost positive that it was better than all the sex she had ever had, all put together. 

Jane groaned looking at her- _Yet another mixed signal,_ she thought- and checked his watch; he wasn’t usually a watch kind of man, as he had never really based his life on time, both when he was young and later as an adult, preferring to have people waiting for him and wanting him; but Teresa wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of having him doing as he pleased with the excuse of “sorry, I don’t have a watch so I didn’t know it was that late.”, and a few days after he had presented her with the engagement ring, she had showed up at his doorstep with her engagement gift: two wristwatches. One was a Chronograph in black ceramic, the one he had spotted at the wedding, and the other was a more casual one, adapt to everyday activities but to his status of (sort of) federal agent, too. 

“It’s well past midday. You’ve been here for over an hour, and it’s incredible what you can do with frozen food and a microwaves oven” He said. He looked at her with his best puppy dog expression as he noticed her staring at him, but she just groaned at his pathetic try at manipulating her. Did he really think it could work? He had to try and do better if he wanted to impress her; hell, even back in the day, when they were still at the CBI, he couldn’t get anything if he looked at her in that way. Just because she wasn’t that good at acting it didn’t mean she didn’t understand when people were trying to pull one over her. She rolled her eyes, and yet, with a small smile, she offered him a fry; smiling mischievous, Jane snatched it from her with his teeth, and Teresa gasped, her mouthwide open in a fake “O” of indignation, and soon they found themselves stealing food from each other, leaning on the bed and laughing like nothing had happened at all. 

Suddenly, they stopped to laugh as they were both on their sides, facing each other, and Teresa shivered as she saw his serious and deep expression; Jane was a man of thousands faces, thousands masks, but there were two of him she liked the most: when he was at his most unprotected, bare of any masks, the con put aside, and when he allowed himself to be free from the ghosts of his past who still haunted him, when his smile was sincere and reached his eyes. Now it was it: she felt herself falling a little bit more in love with him, her heart clenching at the idea of how much he had gone through, of how much he was trying to make this work, make this all right. But he was struggling, and she was supposed to accept it and understand it. After all, wasn’t she his best friend, his wife? If not her, then whom?

“Cold?” He asked, staring into her eyes as he felt her shiver; he run an hand through her still wet hair, and never broke eye-contact. “It must be the hair. It’s still wet…” he said with an husky voice. 

“Sometimes I think that I’d rather…” she gulped as she arrived in the middle of the sentence, Jane’s hands burning her whole being, and she felt his warmth through their swimsuits, like they were skin-to-skin. “… that I’d rather cut it.”

He smiled ta her, a little sad smile filled with past memories and a lot of regrets and missed opportunities. She could almost see in his eyes the wheels turning, could see what and when he was seeing. “I remember when we first met. You had your hair… that long.” He said, putting his hand against the ivory skin of her neck, a little under her left ear. “I couldn’t say if you looked more like a pixie or a teenager. You know, I don’t think you ever had it that long when we worked together in California…”

She shook her head, no, as he used the hand that had been on her neck to draw invisible patterns all over her skin, on her neck and shoulders and face and all over he could reach. Of course Jane was right- her hair was reaching her lower back, and in California she had almost always kept them at shoulder’s length. But now she wasn’t that woman any longer, now she had a different life and she had allowed herself to be a little bit more feminine than before. 

“I’m so sorry, Teresa…” He whispered, his lips all but a breath away from hers. “I didn’t mean to push you away this morning.”

“No, No I understand.” She tried to tell him, cupping his face, but he shook his head in her palm. “It’s been a long time and…”

“It’s not that.” Even if Jane wasn’t going to admit that yes, that was part of the reason he was suddenly having troubles in the bedroom department; one thing was wanting Teresa, and the other one was bedding her after not having been intimate with a woman in… how long had it been since Lorelai? Five years already?

“I wasn’t expecting for the good Catholic girl to be so…” He paused, concentrating. “intense. Open. Wanton.”

She smiled against the skin of his shoulder, feeling triumph warming her, giving her courage. _Jane_ was scared of her- of how intense she was. _Jane_ was scared because he hadn’t been able to read her fully. 

Good. 

“And then…he paused, and gestured to his lower half. “I think you may have noticed how much I wanted you on the shore, but… hot sand isn’t exactly the best place to make love with a woman for the first time. _Especially_ if you want to make it memorable.”

“And now?” Her voice was low against his neck, her eyes closed as she understood where he was going. Jane just smiled of his mischievous smile, and when his lips descended upon hers and conquered her mouth, she left herself fall prisoner to feel, as his hands started to remove the scraps of cloth from her heated body.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! But my beta went missing, and I haven't been able to contact her in a month, and I really need for this story to end before the last two epsiodes will air to keep amking sense and still be a little "in continuity"


	7. Chapter Seven

The days of their honeymoon flew in an heartbeat, spent between the sheets of their bed (yes, he was an excellent lover, and yes, despite his age, he still had stamina- blessed biofeedback), the clear waters of the lake and walks on the shore at night, when they walked hand in hand and whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears. 

Before they knew it, it was time to get back to reality, and when they did, Teresa had no doubts that her love for Jane had finally blossomed; it wasn’t that scary, uncertain feeling she had had for years any longer, nor the dreams that kept her awake at night when she had been “ _a tiny bit in love with him_ ”. 

No. Teresa Lisbon was crazy in love with Patrick Jane, and now that she was living the reality of that feeling, she wondered how she had even considered loving another man at all; everything paled in comparison to him, but maybe it was only in her mind, after all. Or maybe Jane had lied all this time and he truly was psychic, because she felt like every sensation was multiplied for ten, hundred times, and she wasn’t talking about the sex- well, not only. It was… everything, like the way her heart blossomed and her cheeks reddened whenever he called her “Reese”, or how she felt fire all over her nerve-endings when he took her hand in his one.

At first, she had been scared that getting back to society (and _clothes_ ) would mean breaking the spell of the honeymoon phase; she feared a boring routine, the novelty wearing off and leaving space to only a resentment and maybe boredom, like they were already an old married couple or had married in a rush. 

But it didn’t happen: on the job, they kept behaving like nothing happened at all, still being “Lisbon” and “Jane” (not that she was able to call him Patrick outside the job), and still bantering like they had always used to. 

They also adapted to each other’s constant presence in everyday life, and Lisbon didn’t know who or what she was supposed to blame, if the fact that Jane had probably chosen their (technically, his) home with her in mind, if things were easier because he had been an husband once already, or because, after all, it was what she had wanted for a good part of her life. Either way, it didn’t matter. Married life suited her and made her happy, despite her initial hesitations.

_ Of course  _ she had wanted to marry Marcus, but it had been more philosophical in nature, a sort of intellectual exercise, and between dream and reality there were a lot- way too much – differences and speed bumps. But with Jane, it was different; her whole life she had been scared of seeing her life turned into a modern version of her parents’ marriage, where her mother, although happy, had been the classic fifties style housewife; but her husband considered them equals and considered her the best of his friends; Jane loved her in his own personal way, but wasn’t so attached that he would have died, destroyed himself if something would happen to her.

_ It has to be this way,  _ she often thought. After all, if he would love her as an husband would, as he did Angela, he would have never married her, right? Because her life was a constant danger, a death threat after the next one; a man scared of losing himself in despair because of the loss of his beloved, a man who had walked that path once already, would have never taken such a risk willingly. Right? On her side… she didn’t even want to think about what losing Jane could have meant for her. Her still recurring nightmares about Red John, Lorelai, Bertram and his exile were enough to terrorize her, and this without her persistent childhood memories. Adding (present) real life to the equation was too much to handle even for her, so, she avoided thinking about it as much as she could. Her conscious mind never got there; it was either on the job when she was at the FBI, or concentrating in transforming his house into an actual home: moving her things, adding her touch, mixing their life and creating something unique that was just _them,_ Lisbon and Jane, with their dysfunctional pasts and their even more so present. 

For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to be really happy; she wore the feeling proud, like a badge, and not the mask she had used for such a long time. Her mind, so lost in sensual imagines and touches, rarely got her in places where she didn’t want to go. Unless in one occasion, more or less one month and an half after they got married, when she didn’t know what to feel…

_ As Jane hurried outside, Lisbon rolled her eyes; for a man who claimed to still suffer from insomnia, he surely slept a lot. But, well, after all she had only herself to blame: blushing, she allowed herself to remember how the previous evening she had worn him out, after having filled his stomach with a decadent dessert au chocolate in bed. _

_ She looked around, and noticed that Jane hadn’t put his ironed clothes in the drawers the previous day, she looked at the items of clothing quizzically, wondering how it could have escaped his notice- Jane liked to put in order his things on his own, terrorized that she could get his “system” wrong- but now he wasn’t there, and now that she was married, she wanted things in their place to be perfect the whole time.  _

_ Shaking her heads with a smile, thinking about what she would tell him in the evening, she grabbed the shirts and opened the drawer where she knew he kept them; it was semi-empty, and on the bottom she could see the corners of a frame sticking out. It was face-down, but with dread in her veins, even before taking it in her hands, she knew who was going to be in that picture. And yet, she gasped when she saw the three young faces, smiling and happy, Jane, Angela and a newborn Charlotte. _

_ Besides a DMV picture, and images from the crime scene, Teresa had never seen any picture from Jane’s family (Was it strange that she still considered them his family, now that she was his wife?); there were no pictures in the house, and as far as she knew, Jane didn’t have any in his wallet. _

_ Sobbing, she hugged the picture, feeling a shaftof pain, guilt and grief, for Angela and Charlotte, for the terrible loss Jane had suffered, and, inexplicably, for herself. It took her a long time to compose herself, and only when she looked at her face in the bathroom mirror, her eyes red and puffy, she realized she had been senseless. Why was she supposed to feel guilty because she was married to Jane? Yes, what had happened was terrible, and she thought that no man should go through such a catastrophe; but it wasn’t her fault- and, as much as Jane liked to say the opposite, nor his. She didn’t know a lot about Angela, but she guessed that she would have liked to know that Jane was happy and in good hands. Besides, the man’s love for his first wife was epic, almost infinite, and Teresa knew that, as deep as they were, his feelings for herself couldn’t compare, paled in compare to what he used to feel, and still felt, for his beautiful Angel… _

They didn’t even fight- well, they did, but theirs was more of a banter, the one developed either after years of marriage or a long knowledge; sometimes Teresa wondered what was their relationship; yes, she and Jane had known each other for almost fifteen years, but she felt strangely comfortable knowing that they had, somehow, always behaved like an old couple. She hadn’t always noticed this, of course. In the past, she would have denied such a truth, but now, with the passing of time, and with the intimate knowledge of how Jane worked in a life outside the job – and a life without Red John – Teresa realized that people were right in making assumptions, and that yes, there was a reason why when they went undercover as a couple it always worked. 

Of course, that phase couldn’t last forever, but the cop couldn’t imagine that _she_ would have been the one to “destroy” their peace, nor what their first big fight as a married couple would have been about. She wasn’t looking for a fight, actually, that morning she was quite happy, after having spent a beautiful and decadent night in her husband’s arms (and underneath and on top of his body). They were going by their daily routine, when Jane went to the door to retrieve a package, and he made it swung before her eyes.

“Need to tell me something, Reese?” he asked with a cheerful smile as she grabbed the package from his hands, blushing, and he sat at the kitchen aisle drinking a cup of tea from his light blue cup, part of Teresa’s wedding gift, still looking at her, amused. He guessed what the content of the package was, as he was aware that it had been delivered to his doorstep once a month since she had moved in with him; but it was the first time he was the one picking it up: contraceptive pills. And it amazed him that Teresa could blush about such a thing, considering how open and sexual she was with him. 

_ Interesting,  _ he thought. _Sex doesn’t embarrass her, but contraceptives do._

He heard her sighing and take a big breath, and he lifted his eyes from his cup; Teresa was staring at him with plea in her eyes, and even if he knew she would have soon spoken, he already felt like he knew what this was about. Her hands were grasping the package of pills like for dear life, she was pale and sweating, and it killed him knowing what she, rightfully, wanted. Something that he wasn’t sure he could give her. 

“Teresa….” He said, shaking his head, but she stopped him before he could end the sentence. She didn’t want him to, couldn’t allow it: she knew she would have listened to him, would have done as he was going to ask her, had he said the words out loud. And right now, she wanted to fight for herself, and what she wanted now, at this point in her life. 

“I want to stop using them.” she said, her eyes teary and her voice broken. They had never really talked about children, and she had never really thought about herself as a mum, but now that Jane was in her life, now that she loved him, she wanted that, too. She wanted to have a part of him growing in her, wanted to see a baby that was a mix of the two of them. And if he loved her even just a tiny bit, he would have understood, maybe even agreed. Right? After all, she had seen him so many times with children, and the only word she had to describe him with them was _perfect._

He _had_ to want a family with her. he just had to.

“Teresa, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s the right time…” he said, dropping his cup in the sink and leaving the kitchen. Teresa felt rage rising in her whole being: he couldn’t do that to her. That was what Jane accused Marcus of doing, walking away when the situation didn’t suite him, but the mentalist was doing the same thing, and she wasn’t going to allow him to. They were adults, and they were married. They were supposed to talk and solve problems, not give each other the cold shoulders and the silent treatment.

“It’s not the right time?” she asked as she reached him on top of the stairs. “ _it’s not the right time?!_ Jane, did you hear yourself? _How_ can you say this is not the right time?”

Jane stopped doing whatever he was doing- cataloging his socks, apparently – and looked at her like she was a child who had just disappointed her parents, a stubborn child who didn’t want to understand things. “We got married less than six months ago. Every is still new for you. I want you to get used to _us,_ to still have you all for myself for a while before… adding anything else to our life.”

Teresa groaned, feeling the need to take him for his shoulders and shook him; he didn’t understand; but why? He was Patrick Jane. He knew and understood everything. How could he not get that? Unless… he didn’t want to. 

“Patrick, if we want to have children, _this_ is the time. I am over forty years old, and it could get me a long time to get pregnant…”

“ _If_ you’ll get pregnant.” He snapped, with a voice she didn’t recognize as his own; the breath died in her throat, and she filled her eyes filling with unshed tears. That wasn’t the man she knew, the man she loved and had gotten married to. _Her Jane_ was kind and sweet and a tea-drinker; this man, instead… she saw her father in him, a man filled with bitterness and resentment who saw his will as law in the household. _That man_ was the reason she had left Greg when he had asked her to marry him; he was the reason she had been scared for so many years of allowing a man in her life for good. But Jane had won her over, and now, now she couldn’t believe that _her Jane_ could be _that man._

“Listen, Teresa,” he said in the same tone he would if he had to carefully explain something to her, like she was _a kid_. Patrick Jane acted like _she_ was the kid. God, if the whole situation wasn’t so tragic, she would have laughed. But there was nothing to laugh about. “a pregnancy is no bed of roses. You are tired enough because this job is demanding, and on top of that you are still adjusting to married life. _If_ you’ll get pregnant, you’ll get even more tired, and you’ll get sick and…”

“I know, but, morning sickness doesn’t last forever, and…”

But he shook his head. “We’ll talk again about it when you’ll be more rested.” There was finality in his voice and his face, but still Teresa followed him as he moved into another room. She wasn’t going to have any of it: this _had_ to be a conversation. He wasn’t going to play dictator with her life. Yes, he had agreed to his “marriage scheme”, but there was a limit to everything, and she was reaching her breaking point. She could understand if he would to talk things through, to make plans, but this wasn’t the case. Jane just wanted to have the first and last word on the topic, and that was supposed to be it. 

Not this time. 

“Jane, I _really_ would like to have a baby, and I think that _my body_ would be all right with it. _I know_ that I could… that I can cope with the stress of a pregnancy. And if _I_ know it, so do _you._ And it means there’s something more, something you aren’t telling me…”

He looked at her feet, rage and annoyance clearly visible on his features. She couldn’t believe he was mad about this. she thought that he knew that getting married, making their relationship real would mean breach this topic too, sooner or later. “Jane, we are all right, aren’t we? I mean… we’ve known each other for so long….”

“No, no we didn’t. we knew just what we wanted to show the other, but we discover every day new things about the other. If we have a baby now, we wouldn’t have time to… adjust.” She shook her head. Certainly, to an outsider his words would have made sense, but she knew there was something he wasn’t telling her, that there was more than it met the eye. “You know, Teresa, I’m starting to think the only reason you married me was because you needed a legal reason to get married.” 

“That’s an horrible thing to say… you can’t seriously think this…” she whispered, and when he looked into her eyes, he left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and saw the hurt and pain he was inflicting upon his bride. Shaking his head and feeling miserable, in two steps Jane covered the distance separating them, and took her in his arms, kissing the crown of her dark hair as he held her like for dear life. 

“I’m so sorry, Teresa, I didn’t want to snap at you and say those things… I don’t really think them…” he whispered in her neck. “Just… could we talk about it again, later? Let’s wait, until we’ll not feel like it’s the right time…”

Defeated, she gave in, but the conversation left her confused and upset. Maybe it was just hormones, or the feeling that her biological clock was ticking, but the longing for a child – _his child-_ when faced with the harsh truth that she wasn’t going to get her heart’s desire, left her frustrated. Maybe Jane was right, and with a matter of days he she would have changed her mind, but he wasn’t; his concern was genuine, and his arguments- even if she didn’t agree with him- were sensed. She felt he was making too much of the possible effects of a pregnancy on her life, and that, in her book, meant that he was avoiding the heart of the matter, what really made him doubt having children with her.

Sighing in his chest, she hold him, leaving half-moon indentations on his skin through the thin cloth that was his shirt. She knew Jane, and once made up his mind, there was no way anyone could talk him out of whatever was running through his head. So, she had to put up with _his decision_ concerning _their future_ and hope for the better; he had told her that he wanted to wait, but he hadn’t said how long, and even nowadays many couples waited a couple of years after the wedding to have children, they weren’t getting any younger. 

Of one thing she was certain: a baby had to welcomed by both parents, and Jane wasn’t there with her yet. She would have to wait for what he saw as a reasonable time, and hope for the better, that it wasn’t too late.

_ No,  _ she thought as the tears were burning her eyes and Jane’s hold on her spoke of despair and guilt, she didn’t have to think like that. She had to be positive: sooner rather than later they were going to have a baby of their own.


	8. Chapter Eight

Aside from the big fight about having children of their own, life at home for Lisbon and Jane was quiet and blissful like the one of many other freshly married couples; but, it couldn’t be said the same for what happened on the job. Yes, Lisbon could still control him a little bit, but at the end of the day, Jane was Jane, and she knew that she couldn’t expect him to change his colors in such a drastic way. He would have still lied, still manipulated people, still kept his plans, and evidences or whatever he wanted to, to himself, and if he thought that it was better for her (and the plans) to kept Lisbon out of his schemes, so be it. He didn’t see anything wrong with it, but Lisbon didn’t agree with him. And _that_ was one of those times. 

“I know you are not sleeping.” She said between clenched teeth, kicking his couch, one afternoon. She had just gotten back from lunch with Kim, and Abbott had asked her in his office, and as soon as she saw her boss’ face she knew what it mean; after all, in the last twelve years, she had been asked in her superiors’ office usually because Jane had done or said something that said superiors didn’t approve of. 

“Well, well, well, hello my dear wife. How are you doing this fine afternoon? Did you enjoy your lunch with Kim?” he asked, smiling his Cheshire smile, hands behind his head as he didn’t show any indication of wanting to leave his comfortable position on his couch. 

_ Ass,  _ Teresa thought crossing her arms. Sometimes she wondered what was going through her mind when she agreed to marry him, but then she remembered all he had done for her and how he showed her his affection, so she normally allowed herself to get lost in his eyes and his devilish charm. Not this time, though; Abbott had been furious, and had menaced to threw her out of the FBI. She loved this job, it was everything she had ever wanted, and even if she was pretty sure that she would have always chosen Jane over any job, she didn’t want to pick a winner, scared of ending up resenting her husband. 

See? She loved him too much for this. 

“Jane, I’ve been just lectured by Abbott about how you went behind his back and accused the senator’s son of being a drug abuser and a serial rapist.” Teresa sighed, looking at Jane with plea in her eyes. It wasn’t like the senator’s son wasn’t shady, because, God helped her, he behaved like a slick bastard, it was that saying so on television, while the senator was campaigning for his second run wasn’t exactly how she would have told the world of the charges against the young, spoiled brat. 

But of course, it was Jane she was talking about, and being dramatic and spectacular was still his thing, underneath the old suits he was still the showman he had been for so long. After all, how could she forget the one and only time he had been asked to participate at a CBI fundraiser, playing some magic tricks that actually turned into a speech about how those people, who were oh so willingly to donate their money to look good in the eyes of the world, could have easily maintained a small nation for an year or so with each of their fortunes? 

“Meh, I was merely stating the facts, Lisbon. Besides, despite Lombroso’s theories were proven wrong, you know that I think that there’s so much we can say about a person’s attitude looking at them, and young Jared’s eyes spoke of ever-lasting lust, his nose spoke of a drug addiction while the way his hand slightly trembled while he was in your very presence suggested that he isn’t at easy with the fair sex as much as he says. I think it’s because of something daddy did. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that underage sex may run in the family. I say, the senator slept with one of Jared’s first girlfriend, ruining the boy for good.”

Lisbon just shook her head, at closed eyes. She couldn’t believe how things changed, and still remained the same. Here she was, twelve years older than when she first worked with him, and yet Jane still annoyed powerful people without thinking about the consequences. Nor for him, her, the rest of their team or the people whose lives got “ruined” by his shows. Jane claimed that since they had started working together he had changed and learnt a lot, but frankly, in moments like those, she doubted it.

“You know what? That guy is a creep, I’ll give you that. But you can’t say that live on CNN, all right? Have you thought of what will happen if we’ll not be able to build the case, or worse, if Jared will be proven innocent?” Jane didn’t even bother to answer to her, he simply _stared_ at her with his usual _Have I ever been wrong?_ look. She hated, _hated_ with everything that she had that look. She couldn’t stand when he acted all smug and superior and arrogant, and… and… and like they weren’t’ able to do their job without him walking them step by step. Frankly, _that look_ was his worst trait, not the fact that he was an arrogant showman. No. It was the fact that he couldn’t admit being wrong, that there were people who could do their job without him- and being right at the same time. 

“So, that’s how you want to play it, then?” She asked, arms still crossed, her annoyance with her husband clear in her tone. “All right. Now I’m going to head home, and take a long, calming bubble bath, because I hate being dismissed by you, and you should know it. _You,_ on your side, will get home at the end of the day, as usual, and since you haven’t made friends with the couch back home just yet, you’ll spend the night doing exactly that, and thinking about the consequences of your actions.”

“What? No!” He exclaimed loudly, suddenly sitting up and looking at her with mixed feelings; he was annoyed with her, too, but there were also fear, regret and a bit of guilt mixed all together. “Lisbon, when we started this, we said that we were always going to leave the job _here,_ on the job. We said that we would have never brought it back home with us.”

“Yeah, well, we said many things, like that we would have never gone to bed mad at each other, but I haven’t been the one with the cold shoulders attitude for over a week after I tried to discuss children with you.” She said, pointing an accusing finger at her. There was a part of Jane who was honestly scared that this could be it, the end of their marriage; after all, Teresa was so mad she wasn’t even crying, her eyes weren’t teary. Add to that the fact that she had just talked about something he had believed they had turned into taboo, and the result was an explosion. 

“We can’t…” he tried to explain, but felt himself losing his focus. He closed his eyes, massaged the bridge of his nose and then looked at her, stern and sure and cool. “We are NOT going to discuss this at home. It’s not fair. This isn’t about _us,_ this is about the job, and you are insulting us if you think you can manipulate this conversation and…”

“This isn’t about us?” she quoted, her mouth wide open in shock, her voice too high to be a good sign. “Jane, _this_ turns out to be about us the moment my boss tells me that, if something goes wrong with this case because of that stunt you pulled, _you_ will be returned to a detention suite and face trial, and _I_ will have to beg even McDonald to offer me a job, all right?”

“Listen,” he tried to tell her, his hands held up in front of him like in mock surrender, which unnerved her furthermore; Jane was claiming she was being irrational, but did he really think he would get any score points by behaving like she was crazy, or, worse, a child in dire need of a lesson? “I’ll talk with Abbott, and…”

“NO!” She exclaimed, but soon realized her harsh tone, her high voice; in that moment, she looked around, and noticed the office turning to look at their conversation. She blushed, and lowered her eyes to the ground, her voice low and broken, all but a whisper in the commotion of the office. “I don’t want you to manipulate our boss, all right? I want you to think before talking. Or, you know, doing anything in general.”

He dared to laugh at her, dismiss her statement with a wave of his hand in the air like it was nothing; he wasn’t being cynic or what, nor mean, which was far worse. “C’mon Teresa, you knew how I was when you married me.”

“Yeah. I thought you were a man who had learnt from his mistakes. A man who knew that talking badly about people in front of the press is dangerous and…” she jumped as soon as the words left her mouth, her voice the deadliest poison, dark and cold like it had gone directly through his heart. Teresa took a step back, her mouth and eyes wide open in shock when she understood what she had been talking about, and she shook her head, like to beg for forgiveness. But Jane just stared at her, he wasn’t saying anything. He was just pale, his pulse was quick and irregular on his jugular, and when she tried to get closer, to touch him, he took a step back, and avoided her touch like it would have killed him, like the wound she had re-opened was real, and blood was spilling out, rotting the dead flesh.

“Jane, I…” She tried to say, but he stopped her from saying furthermore; she had done enough damage already to their marriage, he wasn’t going to allow her to make things worse. She was his wife, and he wasn’t going to break up with her, but if she kept talking, he feared that he, too, would have said something mean, and he didn’t want to be the one spilling the proverbial last drop. 

“No, you are right.” He said, talking his jacket from the couch and putting it on. He didn’t say anything more, just walked past Lisbon and didn’t listen to her pleas as she called after him. He didn’t even stop to tell Cho and Fisher where he was going, he walked past them with rage in his step, hands in the pockets of his slacks, with a “ _Tell Abbott I take the rest of the day off”_ and walked into the elevator; Teresa was right at his back, but he allowed the doors to close in her face when he angrily pushed the button, his gaze a declaration of intents and emotions. 

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and the sobs died in her throat when she realized that she had broken his sacred rule, the same rule she had imposed upon herself the day she had said “I do” to him in front of a judge: she had talked about his family, about that night and his guilty, had actually told him, in a moment of rage, that everything she had said until that day, that he could have been the trigger but Red John was the only guilty, was a lie. It didn’t matter if she didn’t think so: that was what Jane had always believed, and to have her, of all, say so in his face… it was like her father, when, drunk, he had accused his children of being guilty of his wife’s passing because she was going to get James from soccer practice and Teresa from ballet; they knew it wasn’t true, but there was a part of them that wonder _buts_ and _what ifs_ non-stop. She would have never wished the same anguish on her worst enemy: but to have Jane, her love, feeling that way, _because of her,_ it simply killed her. 

Her mind went to another building, another State, another elevator. Many years before, Jane had allowed the doors of the CBI elevator to close in her face, muttering the words “ _You are sweet_ ” and attempting to smile at her. Back then, he had left for six months, reemerging after a liaison with the mistress of a serial killer and declaring, and forgetting, his love for her. But as the doors closed before her in Texas, at the FBI building, there was a part of Teresa who wanted to cry for him, beg her husband to not leave her. 

Because there was a part of her who was sure she had lost him, for good, and the feeling stayed with her as she went home. She had hoped that Jane would have calmed down, came to reason, or whatever, he was a smart man after all. She had even gotten so far to prepare dinner, and arrange the table with the best dishes and a chandelier. She had sat at the table, without eating, playing with her food, hoping that he would join her, but it hadn’t happen; t was well past two in the morning when she finally saw the lights from Jane’s car approaching their driveway; she had been up until that moment, sitting either in the kitchen or on the couch while silently sobbing, feeling guilty for her words and replaying the scene in her mind again and again. She had been so scared that she would have never seen him again; she knew it was irrational, but every time he wasn’t close to her, she feared being abandoned. It didn’t matter if they were older, if Red John was dead, if Jane was going to end his “sentence” in a short while: she was still in front of that elevator, or stranded on the side of the road, or back at the CBI, with her phone ringing and Jane on his way to a plane with a fake passport.

“Jane…” she whispered, her fair features marred by dark strain of mascara, her eyes red and puffy. He had just walked past the door, he wasn’t even fully inside when he turned and saw her, standing there. He had felt guilty when he hadn’t returned home, hadn’t answered her calls, but a part of him, the man raised by Alex, had decided to be mean and pay her back with her same money: she had taken their rules and played with them as she saw fit, manipulating feelings she knew where there- his everlasting guilt for his family’s loss- and that part of him hadn’t been able to let it go. 

But then, he had remembered all the times he had left her behind, vanished without a word, and even if he had wanted to just appear at the office in the morning, he had decided to go back home and sleep at her side, so that in the morning she would know she wasn’t going to lose him this time. But he had underestimated her feelings and fears: Teresa was till dressed, still up, waiting for him, and had probably cried the whole day, thinking that he was going to vanish again in Venezuela or whatever. He was a stupid and a jerk; Teresa loved him, and was scared of losing him because she couldn’t admit that she saw _real love_ reflected in his eyes. He knew she was a good detective, that she was good at understanding people; if she hadn’t been that deeply involved with him, she would have seen what was going through his mind and heart as well- what had gone through him for years- but she was too much into it. He knew that he would have to say the words eventually, but right now, when she was so shaken, wasn’t the time; she would have just believed that he wanted to calm her down, that he wanted to keep her close and make her forget what had happened. Right now wasn’t time for words<. But for actions. 

“Oh, Reese…” he whispered in the semi-darkness of their home as she collapsed in his arms and cried in his shirt. He buried his nose in her dark hair, inhaling her scent, breathing her in as she wet his shirt, stained it with mascara, but he didn’t care, he didn’t let it go, hekept her in his arms like their lives depended on it, his grip on her waist bruising. 

At a certain point, after it seemed they had been in their hallway for what felt hours, she stopped crying, and slowly, like he was scared or she was too frail to handle, he let it go of her; but Teresa lifted her mascara-stained eyes, and shook her head. He looked at her, quizzically, but soon her hands moved to his hair, and grabbing him for the curls, she lowered his face until their lips didn’t crash together, and their tongue started to dance the oldest dance of the world. 

“I was… so scared… of losing you…” she moaned between kisses, as her hands moved south, pushing his jacket on the carpet just to start working on his buttons afterward. 

“Teresa…” he breathed in her mouth, his own air eaten away by her eager, hungry mouth. She didn’t want to part from him for too long, every time just few seconds to allow them to get enough oxygen for the following session of kisses. He felt himself move, but didn’t think it was his own body doing it, it was like an external force, the goddess right before him, was governing him from above, like a puppet in the hands of its mastermind. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the rug, his back against the couch, right before the fireplace, and he was completely naked, no idea when it had happened or where his clothes had gone. As Teresa straddled him, he moved an hand, tenderly, toward her chest,intending to help her unbuttoning her black shirt, but she shook her head and stood up, slowly and sensually undressing in front of him, a strip-tease meant more to reassure her of his presence than to excite him furthermore.When she was as naked as him, she straddled him again, and left butterfly kisses on his skin as her hands explored in earnest his masculinity. Jane turned his face so that he could meet her lips, and kissed her as he stroked the skin of her shoulders and back, calming her down, reassuring her that he was there, that it was real. 

And for the rest of the night they didn’t know anything beyond their mutual desire.

In the morning, she wake up in their bed, and although his side was empty, Jane was at the feet of the bed, rearranging a trey with cups of tea and of coffee and the best pastries they had been able to find in Austin. She sat up, without bothering to hide her nudity, and took her offering with a lazy smile. “What time is it?” She asked, turning to look at her alarm clock. It was still early, no need to be scared of getting late to work. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He told her, but before he could end the sentence, she had said the same thing; they laughed wholeheartedly, snuggling into each other, Jane kissing her chin, burning her lightly with his stubble. 

“We are not going to skip work, right?” he asked, feeling his reinvigorated arousal pulsing, heavy and hard, between his legs. 

“Nope.” She smiled, kissing him, allowing the make-out session to get too hot, just to leave him bothered without having her to help him out to solve his issue. 

“Tease.” He snickered, chuckling, as she jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. Still smiling, she opened the small cabinet to retrieve her toothbrush, but then her eyes fell on a squared packet; feeling panic rising in her chest, _no, no, no, no, no, no_ the mantra in her mind, Teresa opened the box, and checked the days printed in black on the aluminum covering each pill; **_Thursday,_** the pill of the previous day, was still there. 

She had forgotten to take her pill. She had been so worried about Jane leaving her, that she had completely forgotten to take her pill.

She stared at the pill, like she could will it to disappear, and remembered her doctor’s orders: never forget it, always take it, every day at the same time. And now, she had missed a day. A day when she had had sex twice in a matter of hours. There was a chance she had gotten pregnant, and the possibility stood for the following two weeks, whatever she took the rest of the box or not. 

She heard Jane’s footsteps approaching, and hastily dropped the incriminating pill into the silk, under the cold jet of water, and tried to hide the box in her closed fist; but when she saw that Jane looking at her, she wondered if he had noticed _what_ she had in hand, she blushed, and hoped that he would believe her a prude on the matter of fertility- _you do it, you don’t talk about it._

“Do you mind if I shave while you take a shower? I swear, I’ll not try to join you.” He chuckled, eyeing her suggestively. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“We are late.” She simply said, glaring at him as he took from the cabinet his old-fashioned razor and his shaving brush. “Do you really have to shave? I like the 3 days stubble…”

“Yes, but right now it’s a five pm shadow, and _I hate_ five pm shadow. It’s… messy.” He complained while he carefully rubbed the shaving foam around his lips and on his neck. Teresa studied him, groaning. Now, she loved him more with a stubble, but she didn’t know why, but there was something utterly arousing about a man shaving himself like that, a cold blade running along the smooth skin without any kind of protection.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call in sick?” he chuckled again, knowing all too well that for some unknown reason he preferred left unsaid Lisbon found arousing looking at him while he shaved. Then, in the mirror, he saw a glimpse of a pink box in her hand, and he looked at her quizzically, his eyes still fixed on his reflection. “The pills aren’t giving you any problem, right?” he asked. He knew that Lisbon had been taking that brand for a while, but she was in an age in which her body was still, _again,_ changing, and there was a chance she had developed sides-effects. 

She smiled, and shook her head. _Tell him,_ she ordered herself. _Tell him you forgot to take one pill last night._

“Good.” he said, smiling. “It won’t be forever, Reese.” He promised, and returned to the task at hand, while Teresa tried to put a mean to his words. 

“You mean… you think you’ll eventually be ready for a baby? Soon?” she asked with a low voice, not daring to meet his eyes, nor directly nor through the mirror. 

“I just mean it will not be forever.” He simply said, snapping a little, then taking a big breath, Teresa didn’t know if to calm himself or because he had realized he had lifted his voice with her. 

_ We may not have a choice at all any longer,  _ she thought. She wanted to tell him, but then she saw how concentrated he was on shaving, and understood that his unapproachable aura meant he didn’t want to talk about it any longer. Teresa sighed. His whole “not forever” thing was probably referred to the fact that she had just few fertile years left, and that once in menopause he would have been the one taking precautions- just in case. 

_ No,  _ she shook her head, berating herself, _he promised me._ Besides, it was unlikely, right? one day without a pill. She betted that nothing was going to happen. It couldn’t happen- Jane was so dead set on not having a child, that she dreaded his reaction if she ended up pregnant after all. But how many chances there were, at her age?

“Ehy, something wrong?” he asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

She shook her head. _Maybe I’ll never have to tell him._

“Just thinking about work.” She lied with her best smile, and dropping a kiss on his cheek, she left the room. 


	9. Chapter Nine

For the following two weeks, until she knew the pills wouldn’t be effective again, Lisbon made excuses after excuses; sometimes she would betired, and decided to go to bed early; sometimes, she would stop at work until the early mornings, working on this or that case; and then, there were the out-of-town cases, where she and Jane slept in separate rooms due to FBI policy and she wouldn’t have to lie at all to her husband, and for those couple of nights she had an actual and true excuse to refuse his touch and his erotic caresses, she was grateful. Then, few weeks later, when she thought she was finally out of the blue, she realized that there was a good chance she had done it all for nothing. 

Few days before, Grace had come over to visit while she was in Austin attending a seminar on cyber security, and Teresa had taken the day off to spend it with her long-time friend. In the evening, she had been very tired, and in the night she hadn’t felt well, her stomach a real mess, and had decided to blame it on something she had eaten while out. But then the fatigue and the “bug” had kept her company for many other days, and Lisbon wasn’t stupid; yes, she had never been pregnant, but she had seen her mother go through pregnancies, had read all about it, and she was pretty sure that no bug was supposed to be that nasty.

For few days, she was able to hide it, or at least kept the bug excuse up, but at a certain point it all became too much, and even Jane got worried about her when she refused coffee. But she had learnt a couple of tricks from him, and even in that occasion she had a reliable excuse to use with her husband. 

“I’m just nervous, I think.” She said, managing a smile, gulping down a mouthful of bread and butter, hoping that the rest would follow more easily. “I mean, today’s your first day of official service after the end of your sentence.”

Jane rolled his eyes at her. “You know I should be the one nervous, right?” he asked, chuckling in that way that turned her inside out. “Unless you are scared and fear that I’ll eventually be accused of treason, terrorism, or whatever…”She didn’t even bother him with an answer, just glared in his general direction and then, as soon as she was finished, she left, giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

That day she was going to an appointment with her doctor, and had asked to Cho to sort of cover for her, saying to the others that they were supposed to go and meet a witness in one of their ongoing investigations. 

Of course, she hadn’t told him that she wasn’t going with Jane because he didn’t agree with starting a family of their own, but had said she didn’t want to bring false hopes up, just in case, and that if she was indeed pregnant, it would have been a special gift for his new life as a man fully free. Her former subordinate had looked at her weirdly, and Lisbon couldn’t help but wonder if he knew about Jane’s “choices.”, if there was something about her behavior that was screaming the truth in his face; she wouldn’t have doubted it, after all, Cho was a person who didn’t show a lot his emotions, but he was a good judge of character and she wouldn’t put past him something like that; he was no Jane, there was no doubt, but in the last few days she had been alternating between peaks of joyful hope and depths of nervous despair, trying to maintain a calm outlook only in the hope of fooling Jane. After all, what else she could do at that point? Nothing. Exactly like Jane if the doctor would have confirmed her suspicions; nothing, if not accepting that their family was going to get bigger before he had planned.

When she got home it was late in the evening, and her heart filled at the sight of Jane sitting on the couch, two glasses of red wine on the coffee table in front of him, smiling mischievous at her as he patted the space next to his body. Shaking her head, amused, she left on a chair her purse and her jacket, and, abandoned midway to the couch her shoes, she joined her husband, snuggling at his side with a breath of relief. Jane smiled, and then took the two glasses, offering Lisbon to drink from his hand. She blushed and accepted, but after one sip, she moved away, shaking her head.

“You sure? There is a lot to celebrate. I am an FBI agent as from today, after all.” She wanted to laugh: Jane wasn’t exactly an FBI agent, but still a consultant, but he seemed to like to think of himself as of a federal agent, and if that made him happy, she wasn’t going to fight with him about this. “And this Merlot has an excellent bouquet.” 

She laughed, wondering when and how he had picked the necessary knowledge about wine bouquets; she could almost see him, a man in his middle thirties, dressed to the nines and reading greedily _Wine Spectator_ and _Wine for dummies_ to impress the riches and the so-called celebrities. 

“Finish yours and don’t worry.” She said, sweetly, her head on his shoulder, as Jane put an arm around her, his hand on her side, and brought her impossibly closer to him.he drank the wine, and then turned, his eyes searching for hers, and as he gave her a small kiss on the lips, he moved away a rebel lock of hair from her green eyes. Without breaking eye-contact, she took a big breath, and then, in a flash, she told him what she wanted to- _almost. “_ I went to see my doctor, today.”

She never stopped to look at him, and saw emotions running wild through his mind. She could see the fear and the despair, and she could well imagine what scenarios could populate the mind of a man who had lost everything already once in his lifetime. He opened his mouth again and again, but no sound escaped, but then Lisbon shook her head, her hands warm and so, so alive on his neck, forcing him to lift his face and look at her, see the truth: he wasn’t going to lose her, not now, not over this, at least. “Jane… I’m not sick. I’m…” she paused, the breath died in her throat, but she had always been brave. She had always been a fighter: and this was a battle she was going to fight. And win. “I’m pregnant.” 

“What?” He just said after a long silence, his voice all but a whisper, his skin ghostly pale, his eyes in a world she didn’t know of. 

“I’m pregnant.” She repeated, and this time her eyes looked at her own feet; she knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but there wasa little part of her that felt guilty, a little part of her that was scared of how Jane was going to react to the news. _Of course_ she knew it wouldn’t have been easy, she knew what he wanted, after all, but she had been sure that, being the intelligent man that he was, he would have accepted the reality for what it was and rolled with the tide.

“How?” he demanded, his eyes ice-cold, his hands fisting at his sides. He wasn’t going to hurt her, both because he wasn’t that kind of man, both because he was well aware that she was stronger than him, but the was something of utterly scare in his monosyllabic sentences, in the icy glare he was sending her way, something that was way worse than any perp she had ever met, Red John drawing a bloody smiley on her face included. 

“I… I forgot one pill.” She said, faltering. “Just one.”

“One’s enough, isn’t it?” he said, and suddenly he stood up, and went right before her, looming over Lisbon like the ghost of some horror story, the monster ready to devour his prey after having tortured her. “You stubborn, little…” he gesticulated, shaking his head. “You wanted a baby and what, played Russian Roulette with your pills?”

“Jane!” she screamed, her eyes teary and she stood up, looking down at him despite her height, but he ignored her, keeping talking like she wasn’t there, like that wasn’t supposed to be a discussion between the two of them. 

“You always have to be right, and people always have to follow your rules, uh? You have to get your own way, come hell or high water.”

“I didn’t plan it!” she protested.

“Of course, it happened only right when you wanted it to, but by accident.” He chuckled darkly, his voice filled with angry sarcasm. Teresa took a step back, barely recognizing the man before her. or maybe recognizing him all too well: that wasn’t her Jane,but the one who had hunted down Red John, a man obsessed and with only one thing in his mind. What had he said? _Come hell or high water._ “What an idiot, to think you would have never gone behind my back…”

She closed her teary eyes, and braced herself, her hands on her still flat stomach as she listened to his accusations. “It was an accident, Jane, I just forgot. That day we fought at the office… when I thought you had left me…”

He looked, if anything, more furious than ever, his eyes narrowed and glittering, his voice icy. “Are you blaming _me?”_

“No. I'm not blaming anyone. I mean, I know I should have remembered, but I didn't, and we're having a baby.” Her eyes stung with tears. “Jane, I know you think it's too soon, but it's happened. Please—can't we just be glad?”

“No,” he said coldly. “I'm not glad. I feel sick to my stomach. I don't want this baby. _I don't want it!”_

She put out her hands to touch him, draw him close to her, sooth his obvious pain with her caresses. It had worked until that day: it had to work now too. “You can't mean that!” she said. “Not really, it isn't true!” He had told her he wanted to have a family with her one day, didn’t he? He couldn’t have lied to her about this. She had seen him in the past; he loved children. He _did have_ to want a family of his own. Unless…

Unless she had been right when they had first started to play this dangerous game, and she was nothing more than second best, a mere rebound for something that couldn’t be any longer. 

“I DO!” he snapped, putting his hands between them, trying to put some distance between himself and his wife. He shook his head, in silence for a few, brief instants. “Don’t touch me, just, don’t touch me now. Just, leave me alone, all right?”

She watched in horror, for the second time in few weeks, as he took his jacket and flown the room, slamming the front door as he left, he didn’t stay out all night, and Lisbon knew, as she had looked at him from their bedroom, that Jane had merely paced the garden for hours and hours. At a certain point, she had gotten to bed, keeping her eyes open as she waited for him; but when he come back, he didn’t say a word, didn’t check if she was awake or not, and she was still too shaken by his outburst to be the one to break the silence. So, as he went to bed at her side, putting as much distance between their bodies as he could, she simply laid in the dark, listened to his breathing until the sound didn’t tell her that he was either sleeping or faking it. 

When she woke up in the morning, Jane was already buttoning his shirt, while she felt heavy-headed and nauseous again. He looked at her, but didn’t dare to meet her eyes, concentrating instead on his cuffs. “You’d better go back to bed. I’ll call the office and tell them you’ll run late.” He simply said as he approached the door. 

“I’m fine, Jane.” She simply said, stern. She lifted her head, daring him to defy her. It wasn’t just because of what he had said about her baby – _their baby –_ it was a matter pride. She was pregnant, after all, not sick; billions of women had done it before of her, her own mother had done so four times. She could do it. She could still go to the office and do her work, _and_ expecting, all at the same time. 

But as soon as she ended the sentence, she ran towards the bathroom, and kneeling on the white porcelain, threw out what little she had had for dinner the previous evening. She left the room, and saw Jane still on the threshold of their bedroom, hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You can go. I’ll get to the office with my car.”

His mouth tightened, and he left without kissing her goodbye. For the rest of the week, and the following one, they existed in a state of armed truce, mouthing polite nothings at each other, sleeping apart in the same bed, putting on a front of polite tolerance whenever they were on the job; she didn’t dare to be the one to break the news to Abbott, and Jane didn’t mention breaking the subject with his boss, like he didn’t care if Teresa was on desk duty or out in the field, risking her own life and the one of their unborn baby. 

On Saturday, she went to the hairdresser, and while she was waiting she found a magazine and read an article about _'Your First Baby'_. One of the common problems, the writer said, was the father's jealousy of the new baby. _The wife must be on her guard, and not devote all her attention to the baby at the expense of her husband._

Was that all it was? Teresa wondered. Jane had said more than once that he wanted her to himself for a while, when she had dropped the subject of having a child for the first time. And yet she couldn't believe that he was so immature(despite everything pointing to the contrary, at times.); it might have been possible in his first marriage, when he had been younger, vain and self-centred, but she couldn’t believe it could be what was going on with him; not after what had happened to his first family.

Still, she was clutching at straws now. Anything was worth trying. Perhaps he did resent her preoccupation with the question of a baby. Maybe he really felt that she saw him more as a means to an end than a person she loved in his own right- hadn’t he joked about the fact that she seemed to consider him a baby-maker more than her own husband at least once, after all?

She went back home, and started the dinner, knowing that he would be out until late to play poker with Cho and another couple of fellow agents; when he arrived, she was stirring the sauce for their pasta, the coffee table in front of the couch already arranged with their best clothing and two candlesticks with blue candles.

“Is this a special occasion?” He asked rather dryly, his arms crossed as he joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the aisle at her side- the closest they had been in the whole week. 

“Sort of,” she said evasively. “I'm making it one, anyway. I bought some wine. Can you pour it, please?”

“Do you want to start now?” he asked as he handed her a glass.

She sipped with one hand while stirring with the other, then put down the glass to remove the pot and turn off the heat, simply nodding with a bright smile on her face.

She took the plates and joined him in the other room, where Jane had already lit the candles, and was lounging in a corner of the sofa, his glass in his hand, his eyes on the fire she had started earlier, although the weather wasn't particularly cold.

“How did the game go?” she asked, and his eyes crinkled with slightly cynical amusement, but at least he smiled, if a little tightly.

“Meh, you know.” Which meant he had won at least a couple of rounds. “Do we really have to talk about it? I don’t feel too chatty right now.”

They didn’t say a word, but the silence was too much for Lisbon to bear, so she turned on the cd player, and soft jazz music filled the room as they ate, and when the plates were empty she took them to the kitchen and brought back the dessert.

“You've got to admire it before you eat it” she said, placing the cup on the table between them, offering him a spoon. He smiled as he saw that she had prepared a Sundae, and his heart filled with tender and sweet memories of the many ice-creams they had shared when they were just co-workers, merely friends; her heart lightened, as was the first genuine smile he had given her in days.

“Teresa… what's this all about?” he asked as he looked for her eyes-finally. She hadn’t seen his eyes in days, and she was glad to have a view of his stormy ocean. 

She kept in silence for a while, then, when she saw that he wasn’t talking, nor stopping to look into her eyes, she took all her courage and finally spoke, reading it all as a signal that he was ready to have the talk. “I didn't do it on purpose, Jane. I swear to you I didn't. Oh, perhaps my subconscious had something to do with it. But I wouldn't have ever cheated on you like that deliberately, and you know it.”

Jane reached out his hand and pulled her head down to his shoulder, kissing her dark hair like he had done so many times in the past; and yet, it didn’t feel the same, but like there was an edge to him in some way.“No, you wouldn't.” He said slowly, his hand stroking her hair. “I know.”

She sighed a breath of relief on his neck, her hand clutching at his shirt front. “I'm so sorry, Jane.”

He raised her head with his hand under her chin and kissed her. “I'm sorry, too. I spoiled your big news, didn't I?”

She simply shook her head, sniffing. “It doesn't matter. I knew you wouldn't be pleased, really, because it was too soon. Only I didn't realise you'd be quite so angry. I thought you'd get over it, and be glad. It's _our_ child, not just mine. And I wouldn't want it if I didn't love you so much.” She paused as he stared in awe at her; she knew he was aware of her feelings, but it was the first time she was actually voicing them. “I love _you,_ Jane.” She said earnestly, determined to convince him of it. “Even if you couldn't give me a baby I'd still love you, but you have, and—if it's possible, it's made me love you even more.”

His smile was wry. “Yes, I have. And I suppose I'll just have to accept it.”

Uncertainly, frustrated, she looked for his eyes, and forced him to look at her. “Why is it so hard?” she asked. “You didn't really mean it when you said you don't want it, did you?”

“What's done is done,” he said, loosening his hold on her. “The ice-cream is melting.”

Getting that for Jane fornow the topic was over, she offered him a spoon and started to eat from the glass dish. Stoic acceptance was less than she had hoped for, but perhaps it was all she could expect. She felt a little spurt of exasperated anger. He had made a decision to wait, against her wishes, and not only she, but nature itself, was to abide by that, apparently. Maybe he had become a little too accustomed to making decisions for others with his schemes and manipulations and cons, and perhaps she had let him go on treating her like a child, or worst, a subordinate, for too long. He didn't necessarily know best just because he was Patrick Jane, almighty closer and mentalist and supreme con artist. “You can't always order life exactly to your specifications,” she reminded him. “Sometimes things just don't go according to plan.”

“Do you think _I_ don't know that?” he asked violently, and she cringed when hit by the memory of the perfect family she had seen in his picture, him, young and rich and famous and powerful, and his beautiful wife and daughter. _Of course he knows it. He had lost everything in an heartbeat._

Shaking her head, she muttered, “I'm sorry. I guess I'm just disappointed that you're not happier about the baby.”

“Give me time. You always tend to expect too much from me, Teresa. Try to ease up a little, hmm?” he said rather wearily. “So… tea?”

She nodded, pleased that he was offering her tea instead of coffee. Maybe he was getting used to the idea. Maybe he was worrying about their child’s health, after all. She smiled at him a little anxiously when he came back with the cups, and afterwards they sat side by side, his arm around her shoulders, her hair against his cheek. 

“Tell me, _Lisbon,”_ he said, rolling between his teeth her “old” surname like it was the most erotic, or he was talking dirty to her in bed, an hand busy playing with her dark hair. “Were you trying to seduce me over a meal?”

“A little?” she admitted, a bit guilty because she had been caught red-handed doing something he considered all but childish. “Why, did it work?” she snorted, sure that no, it hadn’t worked, but then she turned to look at him, and saw that mischievous light in her eyes and she blushed at the realisation. __

When he began kissing her, she responded eagerly, and some minutes later she begged him to take her to bed, and smiling against the tender skin of her mouth, Jane nodded his agreement and took her in his arms, bridal style, and practically run to their bed.

He all but threw her on the bed between giggles and laughs and smiles, and he began to explore her, frantically, having missed her too much since she had told him about the baby and he had refused her the comfort of his naked skin; it was just as good as ever, his caresses driving her frantic with desire until she was hovering on the edge, waiting for him to take her over the brink, but at a certain point he started to hesitate, holding back.

Frustrated and puzzled, she looked for his face, and suddenly realised that something was wrong. Unable to believe what was happening, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him with desperate passion, and he reciprocated, his hands biting into her shoulders, his mouth bruising. But then he suddenly broke away from her and rolled over on his back, his hand over his eyes. 

“I can’t!” he said, angrily, 

Stunned, she sat at his back, and massaged his shoulders through the think cloth of his shirt. “Jane…” She said tentatively, as he moved away from her. “What's the matter?”

“Can't you _tell_ what's the matter?” he asked, his voice filled with dry humour.

“I know, but, what I mean… why?”

“I don'tknow, all right? It never happened with…”

_ With Angela. With Lorelai. With all the women who had gotten me aroused in the years, when I just got rid of my urges on my own _ . He didn’t need to say it at loud- she got the message loud and clear, and it broke something in her heart. 

Abruptly she lay back on her own pillow, and when his hand touched her arm she retreated from his touch.

“I'm… sorry, Reese.” He said. “Can I do something for you, darling?”

“No!” She said sharply. “I'm all right.”

She felt humiliated as well as shocked. He hadn't really wanted to make love to her, only she had set the scene so carefully and it must have been obvious that she had in mind a passionate reconciliation. She had practically seduced him, and he had gone along with it until his body had rejected her of its own accord. Women could pretend passion—not that she had ever needed to with him—but men could only fake it up to a certain point. She turned her back on him, curled herself into a ball under the blankets, and waited for sleep to come. It didn’t. 

For the both of them.


	10. Chapter Ten

Scared that it would happen again, Teresa didn’t try to seduce him again, and allowed him to make the first move; she thought that, changing the situation, he would have answered in a different way to her body. But it happened again. And again. And again. She tried to talk with him, but he didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to talk, and he kept pushing her away, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had reached a point where they lived through the motions like they were an old married couple: they gave each other cast kisses in the morning when they left for work, often in separate cars; they would cook, they wold clean their place, kiss each other goodnight and then they would go to sleep in their bed – where Jane would sleep on the far side from her, giving her his back.

She had always been the one who cared and comforted, and she knew she was supposed to be doing the same here, trying to re-awake his self-confidence in the bedroom and his libido, but she didn’t know what to say, nor how to break the topic to him; every time she tried to open her mouth, he froze her out, and after few weeks she started to do something she had never thought possible: she resented him, and regretted each and every choice she had ever made concerning him.

The fact was, she knew him, and knew there was nothing wrong with his body. She could have believed that the first time he had been mentally exhausted, but when it happened four times, she knew that, if there wasn’t any physical problem- and he had gotten her pregnant- than the reason had to be psychological in nature. Many men didn’t found pregnant women attractive, but she wasn’t showing yet, the only indication, visible only to someone who would have seen her naked, where her slightly bigger breasts. Then, it had to be the pregnancy in itself; he was angry, hadn’t really forgiven her for what he saw as a betrayal. God only knew if she knew he could be vengeful and knew how to carry a grudge, but given what was at stake, it was too much even for him.

Unless, the betrayal wasn’t on her side. After all, along with vengeance, Jane had carried along with himself for over a decade guilt as well; he had never really forgiven himself for what had happened to his first family, so what if the trouble was the fact not that she was pregnant, but that she was carrying _his child?_ She tried to mention to him once, but he snapped at her, saying that, as he had never listened to real shrink, he wasn’t going to start with an amateur one- especially not one who didn’t believe in shrinks in the first place. Also, he had kind of gotten used to the idea of having a child; she wasn’t going to say that he was ready to welcome their baby, far from it, but at least he hadn’t asked her to abort, or suggested breaking up. 

Teresa sighed, looking at the phone. When Pete had contacted her during Jane’s exile in south America, he had left her his number, and a part of her, a very masochist part of her, wanted to call Jane’s old friend and ask him if Jane had welcomed Charlotte into the world. She feared the implications of a positive answer, because it would have meant that it wasn’t a child he didn’t want, nor his child, but Teresa’s baby. It would mean that when she had looked into his eyes and saw love she had been wrong, because she had been just a rebound, to keep him company and warm his bed. He had been able to fool them, both until she hadn’t gotten pregnant, but now his body wasn’t obeying to him any longer. He probably thought he was betraying the memory of his beloved ones; Angela had been pure, and yet passionate, love, his one and only, while of Teresa he was probably only fond. He didn’t love her enough to want a child with her, his wife. His mind rejected the child, and his body answered by rejecting the mother, too. 

She told herself again and again that she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop; Jane had never told her he loved her, she had known that when he had suggested marriage he was doing it to help her saving her pride and because he was looking for companionship. Yes, she had made the mistake of falling again in love with him, but she knew him: she couldn’t expect a man who had worn for over twelve years the ring of a dead woman to fall for her.

And yet, she knew they had been happy together.

She shook her head. It was time to stop thinking like that and accept she was just second best in his life.Yes, she didn’t want it, and no, it wasn’t enough, but there was nothing she could do to change it, and worst of all, she had always known that eventually things would have ended up just like that.

 

Few weeks later, she discovered that it was time to start wearing maternity clothes when she tried to put on her favourite jeans and failed miserably.

“We have to tell Abbott.” She told him, well aware that he would have put her on desk duty; but she didn’t care. 

“I thought you had already told him.” Jane dismissed her, keeping reading the newspaper. She didn’t even bother to shook her head. People at work had been starting to notice there was something different about her, and even if Jane was careful and helpful with her, he seemed to keep ignoring the baby altogether. He never mentioned it, but if they started telling people, it would have been impossible for him to avoid, _always_ , the topic. “Well, you can tell him today, right?”

She had pictured Jane holding her hand while they did so together, or at least being at her side. Determinedly she put the picture out of her mind: apparently, it wasn’t going to happen that way.

“You've been feeling better lately, haven't you?” he asked her suddenly, his nose still buried in the newspaper as to fake nonchalance or a feeling of annoyance. She turned, and looked at her husband quizzically, and barely resisted the urge to sigh or scream in his direction; here he was, showing again his good side, and doing his best at pretending he wasn’t doing just that. _That_ was what she hated, when he got all hot and cold with her.

“Yes.” The morning sickness had almost gone, and she had begun to feel less lethargic. Physically she was full of wellbeing, in spite of the constant ache that seemed to have settled around her heart, and the strain of lying in bed each night longing to reach out a hand and touch him, but not daring to.

She was anxious about the way he would receive the inevitable congratulations, but she needn't have worried. A little bitterly, she remembered herself there was a reason he had been such a good and successful con-artist; his imitation of a proud father-to-be and loving husband couldn't have been faulted. For some reason it angered her, and she was still nursing a simmering resentment when they got home in the evening. And yet, they got through their routine, and she wondered for the whole dinner if he had any hint that she was mad with him.

Later, he had checked something out in the garage, and when he returned he found her re-arranging the pillows on the couch, picking them up from the floor. “Why don't you leave that?” he said, watching her fish a small dark red pillow from under the sofa. “Aren't you tired?”

“Someone has to do it,” she snapped. “and I'll probably still be tired tomorrow.”

He looked at her sharply and then took the few steps separating them and put his hand on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. In the last few weeks, he had always been the one pushing her away; for once, she felt like being the one doing so. “Are you resting enough? Has the doctor given you some vitamins?”

“Yes, I am, and yes, he did, and what do you care, anyway?” she snapped, gritting her teeth like a feral animal protecting her own cub.

“Don't be ridiculous! Of course I care!”

“Oh, about your housekeeper, perhaps, or whatever I happen to be for you.” she said sarcastically, fighting back the tears. She was Teresa Lisbon, damn it, she hadn’t cried as a child when her own father hurt her; she wasn’t going to do so because her own husband was doing the same, but to her soul.. “But you don't give a damn about me as your wife. No, wait.” She said, lifting her right index and grinning wickedly. “Let me rephrase it: you don’t give a damn about me as a person!”

He went white, his mouth thinning ominously. “That's unfair, Teresa. You know that I care about you.”

“That’s the point, Jane. You _care_ about me.” She said, shaking helplessly her head. “Andit's all I have any right to expect, isn't it?'

“What the hell are you talking about?” He said, staring at her like he was seeing her for the very first time, paling. “You know what? I'm sorry, but I don't feel like indulging your obvious desire for a good row at the moment.” She simply snorted. “Now what?”

“You are being patronising! Patronising and oh, so superior and in dire need of the last word in every argument. And I'm sick of it!”

“Of what, precisely?” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking controlled and cool, inflaming her temper still further.

“Of your whole attitude! You're like some little golden boy, laying down the law and making all the decisions, and I'm supposed to obey without question…”

“Oh, please, Lisbon…” he interrupted. 

But she wasn't to be stopped now. “…like a good little wife from Bewitched or a child. Well, I'm not a child any more, I'm not your little partner in crime that you can boss and order around. I'm a grown woman, whether you like it or not. I'm _your_ wife, and I'm having _your_ baby. I know you don't like the idea, but you'll just have to live with it. I'm sorry, but if you didn't want any children that were not Angela's, if you didn’t want anyone who wasn’t her… you shouldn't have married me. Or anyone!”

His hands left his pockets, and his eyes went to her as he tried to understand what she was trying to tell him, “You don't know what you're talking about!” he wanted to clear the air between them, wanted to have explanations and maybe, just maybe, explain himself, but she rushed past him, trying to avert the threat of tears, not wanting him to see, and started to rearrange the kitchen.

A couple of hours later, Jane was in their room when she entered, standing at the window with his hands on his hips, staring out into the dark. He turned as she came in and looked at her, stern, like her father had looked at Tommy when he used to get in troubles as a kid. “What did you mean by that last sentence, exactly?”

“Nothing,” she said tiredly, her mouth opening in a yawn as she retrieved her jersey from the bed. “Let's not argue any more, Jane. We are both tired, after all.” Jane looked at her retreating into their bathroom to change, and, closed the blinds, he did the same; when she was back in their room, he was already underneath the covers, faking sleep, and she joined him, carefully to stay at his side, her eyes fixed on his back, desiring to reach out but knowing all too well she wasn’t allowed to any longer.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, she woke suddenly, dragged from sleep by some sound that set her heart pounding; her eyes went wide, searching the darkness without knowing why. Then it came again, a deep, masculine moan of anguish, and Jane stirred restlessly beside her, his slurred voice moaning the same sentence again and again. “No. Sweetheart, no. Don't die! Please don't die.”

She turned to him quickly, leaning over him as his head moved jerkily from side to side on the pillow. “Oh, Jane…” 

He moaned again, and even in the darkness she could see the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. “No…” He said again, and then, with a sound like a choking sob. “ **NO!”**

_ '”Jane!” _ She shook his shoulder. “Jane, it's a dream! It's all right. Wake up.”

He shuddered, and his breath seemed to stop. Then his eyes flickered briefly open and he put up his hand to feel hers on his shoulders, then slid his fingers up her arm. “Oh, God,” he said, on a note of deep relief. “A dream. You're not dead… oh, sweetheart, I couldn't bear it!”

His arms came around her and pulled her down to him, and his cheek felt burning hot and damp with sweat. His hand feverishly stroked her hair. “You are safe. You are wise. You are loved” he whispered, and was instantly asleep again.

She lay against him, held in his sleeping embrace, and tears trickled from her closed lids. He had been dreaming of Angela and Charlotte's death and thought it was his late wife comforting him, telling him it wasn't true. He had gone to sleep again thinking it was her in his arms, even after all this time. Teresa's heart contracted with pain for him. It wasn't his fault that he had love, and still did, Angela more and still grieved for her in his dreams. Perhaps he was dreaming of his first wife now, of the happiness that they had shared. Hopelessly, she wondered if the memories would ever fade, if she could ever begin to replace his dead love. She had to try, it was the only way to make their marriage work.

In the morning she woke up first, and started to ease herself away from him, but the movement disturbed him, as his arms tightened around her shoulders, and he opened his eyes. As she lifted her head and looked into them, she saw a strange expression in the green-blue depths, before he said huskily, on a note of enquiry, “Ehy?” like he didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. After all, something had to have happened, as they hadn’t touched each other in weeks.

Feeling a need to explain, she said almost defensively what had happened during the night, blushing like she ashamed of her own reaction. “You had a dream… a nightmare.”

“I remember.” He said. “God, it was horrible.” His hand on her shoulder gripped suddenly, bruising the tender skin.

“It's all right now.” Of course it wasn't all right; Angela was dead, and he probably wished he hadn't woken this morning and discovered that his nightmare was true. She wondered how many other mornings he had woken to the same cruel realisation. Was this the reason of his insomnia?

She stirred again, and he begged her to stay a little longer with him in bed. He closed his eyes, pushing her head down again on to his shoulder, and she supposed, with a faint sensation of gladness, that if she wasn't his late wife she was at least someone to hold on to for comfort. At the moment, with the memory of his distress last night still fresh, she didn't mind. It was enough that he wanted her here, close to him, that she could give him her silent sympathy and compassion, and that he seemed to need it.

“You’ll be a great mum. You are already blooming” He suddenly said. “Are you feeling all right?” He never referred to her pregnancy, even obliquely, unless it was to express some concern for her health.

“I feel wonderful.” She told him. “You don't need to worry about me.” She stirred at his side; it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he remembered last night and his nightmare, but before she spoke he said if she had any plans for the afternoon.

“I don't think I want to go out.” she told him, sincerely. She had already planned her morning, but hadn’t thought about anything for the afternoon. It would have been nice, though, for the two of them to be alone, in their own home. Not long ago she would have predicted with accuracy exactly what they would have done with an afternoon to themselves, but things were different now. “But maybe we could invite someone for dinner? Kim said she wasn’t sure about a first date with Cho, maybe we could, you know…”

“Yeah…”

They spent the day as they had planned, and when evening came, Kim and Cho joined them for a first unofficial date they weren’t even aware of; it was after midnight when they left, and Jane yawned as they heard the engine of the car fading down the street. “Coming to bed?” he asked as Teresa picked up the glasses to carry them to the kitchen.

“Yes, of course.” She remembered a time when he would have kissed the skin of her neck while saying, silently begging her to accept to have sex with him, but now they weren’t intimate any longer, and once said the word he retreated to their room. _It will get better_ , she assured herself. She would have to learn to settle for what Jane could give her and not demand more than he had ever promised. Maybe that was the root cause of the problem. She had let him know how much she loved him and made him feel guilty about being unable to return it. He had asked her once to ease off. Perhaps if she played it cool, made it less obvious how she felt, he wouldn't feel so pressured and things would come right. The terrifying rift was already healing she knew it, but there was still a dark shadow laying over their happiness.

When she joined him in the bedroom, she was surprised to see that he had a glass of whisky on the dressing table. He was pulling off his shirt, pausing to take a sip before unbuckling his belt, and a part of her remembered her own father, getting lost at the bottom of a glass, but maybe she was seeing too much into it; sleeping pills didn’t work on Jane, he had once told her, so a little alcohol in his blood and his mind was the only way to rest his eyes. She got undressed and used the bathroom, and when she came back he was sitting on the bed in his pyjama trousers, finishing the drink. He looked up and went into the bathroom without a word, and when he came back he turned off the light and got into the bed beside her and sighed heavily.

He reached out an arm and put it around her, pulling her over to lie against him, her shoulders resting against his chest. “I've drunk too much.” He confessed, rubbing his chin over her hair. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You have drunk a lot tonight.” She dared to say. “What's the matter?”

He sighed again, and his arm tightened slightly around her. “That dream, it’s been haunting me all day. I can't get it out of my head.”

“Try to forget it, Jane.” She kissed him softly, tentatively, hoping, but afraid to be too aggressive in case it wasn't what he wanted.

He lifted his hands to hold her head, and took over the kiss, turning to push her back against the pillows, touching her face and neck and then her breast. Then he buried his lips in her neck. 

“Not when I'm half tipsy. It wouldn't be fair to you, and drink is notoriously apt to impair a man's performance. Sweetheart, do you mind if I just hold you until I go to sleep?”

“Of course I don't mind.” She stroked his hair, filled with a melting tenderness. He sounded almost pleading, something new in her experience, as though he needed her there to keep away the dark dream. “It's all right”, she murmured, her arm cradling him. “Go to sleep.”

But the whisky and her arms couldn't keep the dream from returning. He had slipped from her hold and turned away as he slept, and she woke to hear him gasping in distress. She touched his cheek and her fingertips came away wet, and she knew he was crying in his sleep.

When she woke him, he grasped at her as if he was drowning, and choked out, “I won't let you! I won't let it happen! You won’t get them!””

“Jane...” she said urgently. “Jane, wake up, it’s me, Lisbon…” She used her last name; for some reason, she had been having an hard time lately to refer to herself as “his” Teresa. Besides… wasn’t being Jane and Lisbon the foundation of who and what they were? _Lisbon_ had been the one to keep him grounded, after all. Maybe… maybe she could do the same, again, only in a different situation, and maybe, with a different result; back then, she hadn’t been able to talk him out of killing Red John; but right now, maybe she could still save them, save their marriage.

He gave a great shuddering sigh, and said, “Teresa…. Oh, Teresa, hold me, please, sweetheart. Let me hold you.”

She went into his arms and wound hers tightly about him. “You were dreaming about Angela again.” She said. “It's only a dream, Jane. That's all over now. You got Red John, you remember?”

“Angela?” he said slowly, his speech slurred. “I haven’t been dreaming about Angela. It’s you. It’s always you..”

“Me?'” She raised her head, trying to see his face in the darkness.

“Hold me.” He muttered. His hand came up behind her head, pulling her down to him again. “I was so frightened. There was nothing I could do. I opened the door of our bedroom and found you, and the baby….”

“What?” she asked softly, fumbling for his hand and holding it tightly. 

“You were both dead. And it was all my fault. I failed you too…”

She went cold. “But it didn’t happen.” she said, bringing his hand to her cheek. “I'm not dead, Jane. I'm perfectly all right. You got Red John. He never hurt me, and he never will.”

He moved his head restlessly. “You are married to me, Teresa. You're having my baby. And I ruin everything I touch.”

“Jane…” she breathed. His speech was slurred, but she understood exactly what he was saying. She struggled out of his arms to switch on the lamp, and leaned over him as he blinked in the sudden glare. She grasped his shoulders and said the words she had said many times before. “Look at me, Jane. It wasn’t your fault. _He_ did it. And you’re not going to cause me any pain. I’m not leaving. _We_ are not leaving.”

His face was pale, and his eyes looked glazed. Gradually they cleared, and he passed a hand over his forehead. “I'm sorry, it’s just… the dream…” 

“Yes.” she said, looking at him anxiously. “I know.”

“Turn the light off.” He asked her drowsily, closing his eyes. “I'm all right, now. Just stay with me and don’t go away.”

She switched off the light and lay down with her head on his shoulder, his arm curved around her. She felt his chest rise in a sigh, and then his breathing slowed and evened out and she knew he was asleep again. She lay awake for a time, her brain trying to bring order to random thoughts and memories. If she could only concentrate, she thought, irritably. But she was tired, her head muzzy from the sudden awakening, and after a while she too drifted into sleep.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you catch familair names or faces, yes, it's very intentional: I admit "frocing" a cameo from Kate, Joe and The Shop around the corner from "You've got mail", now relocated in Austin, because I simply loved that movie, and the idea of Teresa trying to read pregnacy books was just too great to avoid.

On Monday afternoon, during her lunch break, Teresa wandered through the shops at the closest mall, and without meaning to she ended up in a bookstore. Despite the modern location, the place had a welcoming feeling to it, partly because it didn’t seem to be part of a chain, and partly because she could see it was specialised in children and maternity books. She walked through the different aisles, filled with mostly old editions, some of them, she could see, were second, maybe third or fourth hand. 

She smiled as, between the books, she found a spiral she thought she remembered; she skimmed over it, and saw that yes, it was a Dr. Seuss’ “ _The Lorax”_ from the beginning of the Seventies. Her heart skipped a beat, and she covered her mouth, because she could have been hormonal, but she wasn’t going to be hysteric in public- not over a book, at least. 

“I’m sorry, are you all right?” She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and when she turned, Teresa saw a woman, slightly older than her, blonde and petite and the very personification of caring, smiling at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you seemed to be crying and…” the woman shook her head as she saw Teresa looking at her like she had two heads, and chuckled. “Right. Where are my manners? You probably think I’m some crazy loon. Anyway, I’m Kate, and I own” she said gesturing around, smiling happy and proud. “ _The shop around the corner_ with my husband Joe.”

Teresa shook her head, and laughed, between tears and few sobs. “I’m Teresa, and this,” she answered, indicating her baby bump. “is the reason of my mood swings. That… and the book.” She sighed as she took it in her hands, wondering if she was really supposed to. After all, if it was exactly like the one she had owned as a child, it was a first edition. It couldn’t be that rare, but it had to count for something, right?

“My mother got it when she was pregnant with me. When I learnt to read, I read it at loud to my baby brothers, even if they were new-borns and didn’t understand a thing.” She sighed, her mind in another place, another time. Another man- who still managed to break her heart, just like the current man she was sharing her life with, in such adifferent way, did.

“You still have it?” Kate asked, and Teresa shook her head, and didn’t add anything else. She didn’t feel like giving explanations, like saying things such as _I cherished it like my greatest treasure, but one day I got home from school, and my drunk father had burnt everything that my late mother had even just touched in her life._ “Ehy, if you are interested I can meet you halfway with the price. It’s not such a rare book, and…”

But Teresa shook her head again. “I’m more interested in books about maternity, and the baby’s first months.” She caressed her belly, and grimaced. “I may not look the part, but it’s the first time around for me.” _Not for the father, though, but I’m not considering him, because he doesn’t want to have anything to do with this pregnancy, or the baby in general. So, yeah, I think I should start getting prepared, because I have the feeling that once I’ll be a mother he’ll just run into the sunset without me, so…_

Kate indicated her few books she could find interesting, and didn’t inquire furthermore on the reasons Teresa kept sobbing every now and then, and even suggested a book about knitting; the cop had used to do so as a girl (“I haven’t done it since I went to Catholic school. And back then, I only tried to make clothes for my Barbie”) and decided that maybe hand-made socks, or a warm blanket, couldn’t be that bad for her kid; the child was going to need something familiar, a relic of some sort to pass through the future generations, as it wasn’t going to get anything from its parents.

She went back home few hours later, with a shopping bag filled with books, and one with the necessary to knit a little something for the child; she had opted for a light green soft wool, as she had decided to not discover the gender of her baby (Frankly, she had enough problems as it was with Jane not wanting the baby; she didn’t dare to think of what he would have said if they were to find out it was a girl she was expecting.); she wasn’t sleeping that well, so she set up her mind to start working on it immediately after dinner. 

“Ehy, welcome back.” Jane told her, looking at yet another documentary on television. She was starting to consider the idea of breaking in millions of tiny little pieces that damn device: Jane looked only at documentaries, and right now she was in a moment in her life when documentaries made her cry- especially the ones he seemed to favour, about survival of the fittest and hunting habits of predators. 

Had she mentioned that she didn’t like crying in public?

“Ehy to…” she didn’t end the sentence, and put an hand on her growing stomach as she felt a strange fluttering in her belly.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked as he jumped out of his position, and reached her, an hand protectively on her shoulder, the other at her waist to sustain her, just in case. She loved him in those moments, and she was scared of telling him it was because of the baby, because she knew that he would have retreated once again, and she didn’t want to, not when they’ve been so distant lately. But what had just happened, she had to say it out loud, she had to share it with someone- with him, no matter the cost.

“I just… I felt the baby moving for the first time.” She simply said, blushing slightly as she looked at her hand on her belly. She smiled of a little smile: it was the first time she felt her baby kicking, and it was an intoxicating feeling, one she couldn’t get enough of. 

“Yeah, exiting, isn’t it?” he asked as he left her. Teresa lifted her eyes, and immediately saw his strained smile. She could see he wasn’t into it, and it broke her heart a little bit more. Yes, she was thrilled, and she wanted to know why he couldn’t be happy- at least be happy for her, as he had once told her that her happiness was the only thing that mattered and could make him happy as well. Was it because it wasn’t the first time for him? Or was it because he looked at her and remembered Angela and Charlotte, and what had happened to his precious family, and all those feelings and mixed emotions were too much to handle for him?

“Yeah, well, baby’s already stopped, so…” she said, even if it wasn’t true, only because she knew he didn’t want to talk about it, nor touch her belly and feel her child – _their child –_ kicking him. So, instead of making it hard for him, she went back into the kitchen, and microwaved their dinner with something she had in the cooler; they ate dinner at opposite sides of the table, in complete silence, and Jane didn’t even utter a word when she offered him his usual cup of tea, done just as he liked it. 

After, as he was watching the news, she took the pattern, the needles and the wool, and sat on couch, cross-legged, working on it just as she had planned. She had knitted two rows when Jane lifted his eyes from the screen and stared at her a little, every now and then. She dropped a stich, cursing behind her teeth, and he smiled a little. But when he asked her if it was something for the baby, his voice was flat and neutral. “I didn’t know you used to knit. Every day I discover something new about you.”

She smiled a little, and kept doing her work, slowing a little as she spoke with him. “I haven’t done this since I was little, but they say it’s like riding a bike. Besides, how different can it be, making clothes for a child and for a doll, right?” she stood in silence for a short while, and then bit her lips, her eyes always on her hands. “I choose green wool. Because I don’t know the sex of the baby yet.” She almost felt like crying. Here she was, sitting in their living room with her husband, talking in singular about her pregnancy and their baby, like she was a single parent.

“I’m sorry if I scared you last night.” He suddenly said, and she stopped to do what she was doing. She dropped her work at her side, and hugged her knees as she dared to meet his eyes a little; he was sad and worried, and it broke her heart. It was just like the first time they met each other, when she saw a broken man, a shadow, a shell, and wanted nothing more than mend his wounds. 

“You were more scared than me, Jane.”

He lowered his eyes a little. “Just, don’t see too much in what I said last night. I was half asleep and a bit drunk.” He paused, and looked at her with intention. “It won’t happen again.” He promised. She knew why he was saying the words, that he knew that every man she had been with, she had been scared of seeing them turning into her own father right before her eyes, and she nodded. Jane wasn’t any different, and the previous day he had drunk more than usual, too, so she accepted his silent apology for what it was. 

She started to work again on the socks, but then she decided that she had to say something, that it was now or never. So, she dropped her work again, and turned to face him. “You know what? I’m done listening to you. You say it was the alcohol talking for you? Bullshit, Jane. You’ve been having nightmares for days, and yesterday it was the first time you had anything to drink!”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Just don’t worry about it, all right?”

She took a big breath, and reached out for him, her hand on his shoulder, hot on his skin. “ _You_ shouldn’t worry about it. You know that it doesn’t make any sense, Jane. Red John is gone. He can’t get me any longer.”

“I know.” He agreed, between gritted teeth, refusing to meet her eyes as he said so, like admitting the truth would mean being defeated in some way. 

“But do you? Really?” She asked, cupping his face and forcing him to lift his chin so that he would be looking at her in the eyes. “I know that dreams can be powerful. You don’t need to believe in psychics to know it. The mind is a powerful tool, and there’s probably no one who knows it better than you…”

“Teresa…” he said, closing his eyes and sighing a little, but leaning in her touch. He was tired, of everything, and he didn’t felt like arguing with her. It would have made him more tired, madder, and then he would have been hyped up and would have said thing he would have come to regret sooner rather than later. 

“No. We need to talk. Now.” Her voice was stern, but yet filled with affection and worries. He opened his eyes, and lazily looked at her, seeing all kind of things: Teresa reprimanding her brothers, and her, being the perfect mother for her… _their baby;_ he could imagine her, lecturing with a warm smile a dark-haired girl wearing a green hand-made pullover who underlined the greenest eyes he had ever seen. 

He nodded, and then talked. “Listen, if it can be of any help, I went to see a doctor, all right?” He told her, and Teresa, despite it wasn’t necessary, felt like crying. For someone like Jane, who hated doctors and hospitals, to get a check-up done, it was quite the big step. “He couldn't come up with a cause, but said it's probably very temporary and will probably vanish right of its own accord. And that worrying about it will only make matters worse.”

Teresa smiled sweetly, and chuckled as she caressed his stubble. “Jane, it’s not your fault, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You know that I consider all that talk about potency in the bedroom and virility bullshit, right?”

“But it has to be my fault!” he groaned, standing on his foot and pacing in front of the couch, hands on his hips. “Because, I can tell you, it’s not yours, as you’ve been the main star of all my triple X-rated fantasies for over ten years, and I’ve never had any trouble.”

Smiling, she offered him her hand, and he took it, and allowed her to drag him on the couch; he sat at her side, half-laying on the piece of furniture, and put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her in his embrace.She nuzzled his neck, and he kissed her hair as they stood like that for a while, as close as they hadn’t been in quite a long time. “I do want to make love to you, Teresa, but… I’m afraid to try. That I’ll be humiliated again. That I’ll disappoint you another time.”

“Why didn’t you want to have a baby with me? And I want the truth.”

He sighed, and denied what she was thinking with a movement of his hands. “I told you why I didn’t feel ready for the baby, and I’m telling you now that this doesn’t have to do with your pregnancy.”

“Right.” She said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “Too bad that you started to have performance issues only after I told you I was pregnant.” 

“Please. Don’t start playing the shrink with me.” He stood up and went to the window; he stared at the garden, and hi body language told her he wanted the conversation done; but she wasn’t going to give in that easily. She knew she was almost there, it was just like when was working a case, and could physically feel when she was going to have a big break. She knew she was that close to have him admitting why he didn’twant the baby, and once he would have spoken, the barriers between them were going to fall down. But Jane didn’t want to; she guessed it wasn’t supposed to be a surprise, as she knew he hated when people tried to mess around in his head. 

“You gave me many reasons, Jane. You told me about our jobs, about bad timing, about wanting me for yourself, even about my age… but you gave me _too many_ reasons. You told me once, that when someone tells you too much, it’s because they are hiding something. What are _you_ hiding, Jane?”

He didn’t answer, and she wondered if it was because he didn’t had an answer, if it was because he had it but was scared it would hurt her, or because he didn’t want to get hurt, himself. “Jane, I know it’s because of Angela and Charlotte…” he looked at her in the way he did when he didn’t want to listen to her saying their names, like she had broken a taboo or killed them right now, right before his eyes, with her very hands.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Are you afraid of losing this child, too?” she asked, tentatively, not daring to meet his eyes as she lowered her voice and gulped down saliva. “Jane, Red John and the Blake Society are gone.”

“You're being ridiculous!” He snapped.

“I am not being ridiculous!” She said hotly, jumping to her feet, her eyes bright with the intensity of her emotion. “For a man with a supposedly logical mind, you seem remarkably anxious to avoid thinking this thing through!”

“Which thing are we talking about now?” He enquired sarcastically. “You seem to have changed the subject once or twice.”

“I don't think I have,” She told him, trying to be calm. “I think it's all part of the same thing. And if you do care about me, even a little, you'll at least try to do as I ask, and examine your own motives honestly.” She paused, and took a big breath. “The problem with sex has only arisen since I've been pregnant. You didn't want us to have a baby…”

_ “Yet.” _

“All right! You didn’t want for us to have a baby _yet!”_ She gestured impatiently. “But you must see there's a connection. You know there is, if only you'll let yourself _think_ about it.”

“What the hell else do you imagine I've been doing these last weeks?” He demanded.

“Well, maybe you've been on the wrong track!” she said, somewhat aggressively.

Jane lowered his gaze on the floor, and shook his head. Then, suddenly, he met her eyes again, and walked in her direction, pacing, and indicating her with every step he took. “You want to know the truth? All right, that’s the truth. I’m scared all the time, Teresa. Scared for you. Scared for this baby. And scared for _me,_ because I couldn’t survive if something would happen to the two of you. And I dream of it, Teresa, every night I have the same dream and I feel the same fear running through my veins, all right?”

She went to him, taking the few steps that were separating them, and hooked her arms around his neck. “We can deal with it.” She said gently.

For seconds he was stiff and unyielding in her embrace, then he pulled her close and breathed in her hair, taking in her scent. “I’m just scared that something will happen to you too, like it did with Angie, just because I got you pregnant. And it’s stupid, because you _are_ pregnant, and if you would be in danger because of me, being married to me would be enough… but… I don’t know. It’s like… now that you are pregnant with the baby it’s more… real. You are really mine, and… I’m scared I trapped you somehow, that people will know it and take advantage of the situation and… and…” he shook his head and sighed, not really knowing how much he was supposed to say or what he wanted to say; there was too much, and not enough words.

“Well, at least now I know for sure you aren’t repelled by pregnancy…” she sighed, trying her best at being sarcastic. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He put her away from him a little and swept his eyes over the burgeoning curves of her body. “If anything it makes you more beautiful. I mean, have seen your breasts lately?”

“Jane?” she asked in his shirt. “if this is because you don’t love me as you loved Angela… I’m all right with it. Really.” She said, even if it took more strength that she had always supposed to. But now at least she was free, the truth out in the open, and Jane wasn’t going to struggle to be honest with her, fearing to hurt her feelings. 

He looked at her in shock, his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about, woman?”

“You didn't marry me because you'd fallen madly in love, and I know I've expected too much. I suppose I've been too…” she stopped, took a big breath and gesticulated a little, like looking for the right word. “Well, you know that I'm in love with you, but it doesn't matter if you don't, or can't feel the same. Only I hope that someday… but if it’s not going to happen, it’s all right, I mean…”

He seemed thunderstruck as he grasped her shoulders. “Teresa, you don’t know what you are talking about…”

“Jane, I know you care about me. But that’s it. You don’t love me. And it’s all right if you still love Angela.” She said, between sighs. She hadn’t planned on crying, but the hormones were winning. 

“Teresa… I do love you. And yes, a part of me will always love Angela, but it doesn’t mean I can’t love you too, or that I love you any less. It’s just… I can’t compare you two. Like I can’t compare the man I was with the man I am today. Because of you.”

“Jane…” Tears started in her eyes, and she heard her voice rise in a note of desperation. _“Please_ , don't _lie_ to me. It doesn't matter, so please… I don’t need your empty promises and…”

_ “Teresa!” _ He shook her suddenly, speaking between his teeth. “Will you _listen_ to me, you little _idiot!?”_

Her eyes widened, and he took a big breath before continuing, his eyes never leaving her own ones. “The first time I saw Angela, it was it. I saw her and loved her, and I still considered her my wife for a long time after she passed away. With you, it was different, it crept up on me. You’ve been my friend, my angel, for years. I always knew you were attractive, and I’ve always wondered how it would have felt, getting lost in you, but, it wasn’t until Icame back from Vegas that I understood that I was in love with you. But the time sucked, and then I had to leave and when I returned you said you didn’t want for me to take decisions for you, so I decided to… to wait, I guess. But that day, at the party for Marcus, I understood I was risking being late, and that I wanted you as my wife, to have and to hold for all the years to come, that I wanted to make love to you, to know your body over and over again. But…when I kissed you, you told me it was Marcus you wanted.”

“You’ve been in love with me… for so long?” she asked, tentatively, sobbing a little.

“Meh, you are a woman easy to love.” He smiled of his most brilliant smile, and Teresa remembered the past, all the good time spend together. “God, Teresa, how could you not know?”

“You never told me… and then… you let me think it was all because of Marcus and…”

“Teresa, I always finished my letters with _I love you,_ 104 times. And I told you when I asked you to marry me, but you didn't seem very interested. I thought you knew that altruistic is the last thing I could be. Marrying a girl I didn't want just to save her from a sticky social situation is definitely the last thing I would do.” 

“But I thought…” she paused. “I thought you wanted companionship. And that.. you wanted me because I was safe and…”

“Oh, Teresa, you’ve never been safe, trust me.” He shook his head as he spoke again, his smiling eyes filled with glassy tears. “My heart is yours, Teresa, and anything else you want that it's in my power to give you.”

“But you didn't want to give me a baby.”

“I know it’s stupid, but… I felt that if I gave you my child, the world would know you were mine, and… it would put you in danger.” She made a sudden movement, and he saw that she wanted to slap him. He couldn’t blame. “I know you are a cop, and you are better suited than me to take care of you, but try to understand where I come from.”

He pulled her fully into his arms, his hand on her hair, his cheek against her temple. “And I love you so much, and I don’t know why I can’t make love to you…” he said, with a hint of despair. “I love you, I want you ... terribly. I just don't understand why my body won't let me make love to you.”

“I thought it was guilt... that you felt you were being unfaithful to Angela and Charlotte’s memory.” she said, her voice muffled.

“No, nothing like that. The only thing I had to be guilty about was putting you in danger …” His voice trailed off, as though his words had surprised himself, and Teresa lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, her eyes wide, seeing the dawning comprehension in his face that matched her own. “Oh, God. So… if you are right and this is the reason I couldn’t…” he paused. “What can we do about it?”

She giggled as she kissed the skin of his neck, her hands skimming over his toned muscles as he looked at the ceiling and gulped down saliva. “What about a controlled experiment, mister?”

“Are you sure?” he asked with doubt in his voice, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Teresa parted from him, and took his head between her hands, and forced him to look at her.

“Jane, I can’t promise you the impossible. I can’t see the future. But I can promise that as long as I’ll live, I’ll be yours, and that if something were to happen to me, it wouldn’t be your fault. But there is something I know.” She smiled, and kissed him deeply. “I am sure about this.”

“It may not work…”

“'It doesn't matter. It's going to be all right, I'm certain of it. If not tonight, then sometime soon. We've got all the time in the world, _Patrick_.”

At the sound of his given name, something she had never used, something trembled with joy in his heart as it exploded with joy; he smiled, and tipped her head back with his hands and kissed her deeply and thoroughly until she was breathless and flushed, clinging to his shoulders to keep her balance. “It will never be long enough to show you how much I love you, Teresa.”

She smiled, and taking his hands in her owns, she guided him in their bedroom, with the feeling that everything was going to be all right, now that everything was out in the open. They would be fine: they were wise, they were safe, and they were loved. All of them. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lisbon and Jane's "wedding" attires on polyvore](http://www.polyvore.com/lie_close_to_heart_ultimate/set?id=119420246)

“Are we ready?” Tommy asked as he entered in the small room in the back of Austin’s cathedral. Teresa looked at him, smiling, shaking her head. Her little brother was unbelievable, always making the same questions. 

“Yeah, more than ever.” She said as she took his arm like that time over one year before, Fisher at her back was arranging the train of her wedding dress; she had decided for a new dress, classical but that still suited her, long and white and soft like a cloud. And she had been also following the old traditions: the dress was her something new, her mother’s cross was her something old, Kim’s diamond earrings were her something borrowed, and she was wearing a blue garter underneath the dress. Hell, she had respected _all the traditions_ this time around: Jane hadn’t seen the dress, he hadn’t been sleeping underneath her same roof the night before the ceremony, and hadn’t seen her yet that day. They even hadn’t had sex yet, after the birth of the baby- and this time around, she was going to celebrate on their wedding night, no matter what.

Teresa smiled, blushing like she was a fresh bride, while nothing was farthest from the truth. After all, even if she hadn’t been married in front of the Church, her wedding had happened over one year before; but now, with everything out in the open and their problems finally solved, Patrick (because he wasn’t Jane any longer for her) had asked her to renew their vows, this time in the same way she had always dreamt.It had been almost heart-breaking, and thinking about it Teresa wanted to cry, but how could she not?

_ She lazily opened her eyes, still feeling sore and… strange. She had her child in her for nine months; knowing that the baby wasn’t there any longer, it gave her a weird feeling _ , _but the small ache in her heart was_ _easily compensated by the knowledge that their child was now with them._

_ She hummed, and looked at her side, and saw Patrick sitting on a chair, holding the baby in his arms. He kept kissing the hair, covered by a thin layer of dark curl, smiling and laughing and crying, all together.  _

_ “Ehy…” she breathed, looking at him, her eyes filled with joy, and her heart melting at the beautiful view right before her. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy for Jane; yes, after his first admitting things had gotten easier, but when she looked at him she knew he feared he would fail them, fail this baby like he thought he did his first born.  _

_ He gave the baby one last kiss, then put the creature back in the crib, and sat on the bed at his wife’s side, and bent over to kiss her tenderly on the lips, cupping her flushed cheek.  _

_ “You are so beautiful… the both of you… I’m so lucky, Reese…” _

_ She smiled as she leaned in his touch. “Flattery will get you everywhere, mister.” She looked at the sleeping child, and rolled her eyes a little. “Eventually.” She added, chuckling.  _

_ “I’m looking forward it, my dear.” He said, kissing her again. “But I think right now we may have other things to think about. You made me the happiest man alive when you agreed to marry me; would you gave me that pleasure again, and allow me to give you the wedding you’ve always wished to have?” _

_ She simply smiled, and cupping his cheek, brought her down to her, and kissed him fiercely, letting her body answer for her. _

_ “Is that a yes?” he asked once they parted, painting on her lips. She simply nodded- and she had never been as radiant as in that moment, despite the sweat, the fatigue, the soreness and the not exactly beautiful clothes she was wearing… _

Kim went out first, wearing a classic bridesmaid dress that reached her feet, in the exact shade of the one she had used at Teresa’s previous wedding; waiting for her outside the room, there was Cho, dressed impeccably like a 007 agent with his smoking, and as soon as he saw his “girlfriend” (they hadn’t labelled their relationship yet, and no, they weren’t calling themselves _Kim & Kim_) he offered her his arm. 

“You scrubbed up pretty nicely, agent Cho. Care to keep up the old tradition of the maid of honour and the best man fooling around after the ceremony?” she asked, chuckling. 

“We’ll see.” He answered with his usual dead-pan style, but Kim had gotten to know him quite well, and she could see the hint of a smile and the amusement very clearly.

They reached the aisle, where Jane was already waiting, dressed with a flashy, brand-new three-pieces suit in light grey,and as soon as they did, the Wedding March started, and Teresa and Tommy emerged from the room, Annie in front of them wearing a shorter version of Kim’s dress. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen”the started as the siblingsarrived at the altar. “We are gathered here today to bring together in marriage Patrick and Teresa; they have formed a close bond of love and wish to formalize their marriage with this ceremony in front of God. Patrick and Teresa know there will be wonderful times ahead as well as challenges and their combined love and strength will help them achieve a happy and successful life together. Both Patrick and Teresa feel they are now committed to being formally, spiritually and legally married as husband and wife. The experience of their love touches us all and it is fitting we should celebrate their happiness with them; this wedding gives public recognition to the private experience of their love. At a different level we share it, we rejoice for them and we support them. Now, who presents Teresa to be married to Patrick?"

“I do.” Tommy said, letting it go of Teresa’s hand and giving it to Jane to hold. 

“Before you are joined together in marriage in my presence, and in the presence of your family and friends, I am bound to remind you publicly of the solemn, serious and binding nature of the relationship into which you are about to enter; marriage, as most of us understand it, is the voluntary and full commitment of a man and woman to each other. It is made in the deepest sense to the exclusion of all others, and it is entered into with the desire, the hope and the firm intention that it will last for life.” The old man paused, and gave a look at the couple in front of him, clearly deeply in love- a love that, from what Teresa and Patrick had told him during their meeting, had been a long time coming, and was going to last until their very last breath. “ Patrick, do you take Teresa to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honor her all the days of your life?”

“I do” Jane answered, his eyes glassy as he never let it go of Teresa’s hand. 

“Teresa, do you take Patrick to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?”

“I do.” She answered, sobbing a little for the emotion. She still blamed the hormones; yes, she had given birth over three months before, but she was breast-feeding, and she was adamant that if she was emotional or moody, it was because she was sure that breast-feeding her baby had probably augmented her level hormones, or something like that anyway. It didn’t matter if her doctor said it didn’t work like that. She knew herself, damn it, and she refused to get all emotional and teary because of Jane- not in front of him, at least. His ego was big enough as it was, she couldn’t allow to get it any bigger because of her.

"What God has joined, men must not divide. Now you can exchange your rings, and pronounce your vows.”

Jane half-turned toward his best man, and Cho immediately took the hint, and took from his slack pockets a silk white bag and emptied its contents in his hands, revealing two wedding rings, and offering the one in white gold, with thin borders of yellow one, to Jane. Teresa looked amazed at the small object in his hand, the breath dying in her throat. It definitely wasn’t the wedding band he had given her on their “first” marriage, and the thought of what he had done, of the surprise and the meaning behind it made her fall in love with him a little bit more, if it was even possible. 

“They are Claddaghs rings; I thought they were fitting, as we both have Irish blood running through our veins.” He kissed her hand, looking adoringly at her. “The words are Gra, Dilseacht, Cairdeas. In Gaelic they mean love, loyalty and friendship.”

He sighed, and put the band on her finger, where her emerald engagement ring still was; Jane had asked her if she wanted another one of those too, but she had answered no, saying that she knew that when he had chosen it, he had done it with her in mind, and out of love. 

“Teresa, I promise to encourage your compassion, because that is what makes you unique and wonderful. I promise to nurture your dreams, because through them your soul shines. I promise to help shoulder our challenges, for there is nothing we cannot face if we stand together. I promise to be your partner in all things, not possessing you, but working with you as a part of the whole. Lastly, I promise to you perfect love and perfect trust, for one lifetime with you could never be enough. This is my sacred vow to you, my equal in all things.”

“Oh, Patrick…” she breathed. She hadn’t expected him to write his own vows; she guessed she should have seen it coming, with Jane being Jane, but she had believed that he wouldn’t have put too much in a religious wedding, as it was something that mattered to her alone. But maybe, that was the point, the reason he had put so much effort in this: because it mattered to her, and she mattered to him. 

Kim handled her the ring- the same as the one she was wearing, but with the color scheme reversed- and she slid it on his finger, like she had once done already. She closed her eyes and breathed in, trying to remember his words and work on them; she had expected a classic ceremony, and had learnt (again) the “normal” vows, but in light of facts, they were too banal for them. besides, what better occasion to show him she had been working on her memory palace in the time he was gone to Venezuela?

“I promise to encourage your individuality, because that is what makes you unique and wonderful. I promise to nurture your dreams, because through them your soul shines. I promise to help shoulder our challenges, because through them we'll emerge stronger. I promise to be your partner in all things, not possessing you, but working with you as a part of the whole. I promise to share with you the joys of life, because with you they  will be that much sweeter. Lastly, I promise to you perfect love and perfect trust,  
for one lifetime with you could never be enough. This is my sacred vow to you, my equal in all things.”

“Oh, Reese, you’ve already given me all these things… there is no need for you to promise. I’m the one who always lacked in our relationship.” He muttered as she intertwined their fingers together. She didn’t answer, just shook her head and smiled, her eyes glassy with emotion.

“Patrick and Teresa, in the presence of God, of your family and friends, you have made special promises to each other that have been symbolized by the giving of rings. Therefore I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now both seal your marriage with a kiss” the priest smiled, and hands clapped as the couple shared a sweet peck, smiling at each other. “Now, before introducing you to Patrick and Teresa Jane, we’ll have a little addendum to our ceremony…” the man said, smiling. As he said so, from the front row, Grace and Wayne stood up, a baby dressed in white in the redhead’s arms - Patrick and Teresa’s child. 

“Patrick and Teresa, we are here today because you have asked to have your child baptized. In doing so you are accepting the responsibility of trainingthis child in the practice of the faith. It will be your duty to bring him her up to keep God's commandments as Christ taught us, by loving God and our neighbor. Do you clearly understand what you are undertaking?”

“We do.” They answered at the same time, as Teresa took in her arms her baby, smiling at her and shining like that very first time, as soon as she saw her after she had given birth. 

“What name do you give your child?”

“Eileen.” Lisbon said, and Jane put an hand on her shoulder, smiling happy as he looked down at the bundle in her arms. They had chosen the name together; they had wanted something that would have meaning for the both of them, and he had always knew that she would have preferred for her child to have a Christian name. Eileen had been a sort of middle ground; the Church approved of the name, it wasn’t _too_ common and it had a meaning- “light”, because that was what it had meant that baby for the both of them, what she was. Also, it was Irish, just like “Patrick”, so it didn’t hurt.

“Eileen Anne.” He clarified. He hadn’t told Lisbon he wanted to call that way the baby, but Tommy had told him that “Anne” had been the middle name on their family for four generations, passed from mother to daughter; Teresa, being Teresa, hadn’t told him anything, never breaching the subject as she was well aware that it was Charlotte’s middle name too; but he wanted to do that for her. They didn’t have anything physical to pass to their daughter that had belonged to the family history, with the exception of Teresa’s cross; but if they could give at least this as inheritance, so be it. Besides, it was like she had something from his side, too: that had been Charlotte’s middle name, and it was something that it would link the two half-sisters beyond the mortal world- something that he knew meant a lot to his wife – when they decided it was the right time to tell their child of the sister she had never met. 

“Eileen Anne Jane, I baptize you in the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Father Michael said as he signed the cross on the baby’s forehead, and in that moment, with their real family, and the one they had created along the way- the one they had chosen for themselves- Jane whished for many days like that to come. He knew that their shadows were always going to stay with them, that there were going to be days when the pain of their pasts was going to be overwhelming, but he knew that together, with that little Guiding Light at their side, they would overcome everything. 

Because as a team, as a partners, they were more that the sums of each parts; they were unstoppable- all they had to do was being honest to each other, and stop lying. Or maybe, allow the lies to turn into reality. 

It had worked once, after all, so, maybe the spell could work again and again and again…

For all the days to come.


End file.
